Impermanent
by Kelsie2012
Summary: After the events of The Eclipse 1&2 , Gabriel and Elle decide to run away together and start over fresh. They have each other, and that's everything they need-but things don't always go exactly the way you planned.
1. The Night Your Love Saved Me

So yeah, I don't any of the Heroes characters and I'm not making any money from this--all that jazz. Basically, this is my "what if?" Gabriel/Sylar and Elle story--what if, after the Eclipse, they didn't come after Claire, but reinvented themselves like they dreamed? A very AU story, that I hope you enjoy!

_

* * *

_

_I can save the world, since the night your love saved me. Maybe I can't save the world, but as long as you believe…_

_Our love is even stronger than God hoped it could be. Baby, all it takes is just a little faith in me, to feel like I can save the world…_

_I can save the world._

_

* * *

_

"_Do you think it's permanent?"_

"_What, our powers going away or us?"_

"_Both, I guess."_

"_I don't know anymore."_

"_What if it is? Permanent?"_

"_Then you get exactly what you want."_

"_And what is it I want?"_

_He kissed her, the taste of his lips sweet, his breath hot and musky._

"_A chance to reinvent ourselves. Free of powers, or parents."_

_Elle rested her head on his chest as a wave of terrifying excitement washed over her._

"_Scary," she whispered softly._

"_Yeah," Gabriel agreed, the rumble of his deep voice tickling the cheek that Elle had lain on his chest._

"_And unexpected."_

_Elle lifted her head to gaze into his eyes, smiling. "What?" she teased. "Our powers going away, or us?"_

_He smiled, and Elle thought for a tantalizing moment that he might be about to kiss her again, but before he could, Elle saw the red dot on his forehead. She had only enough time to yank him violently to the side before the world exploded around them._

Elle could still hear the thunderous gunshot and the sound of shattering glass reverberating in her skull as she clutched at the elevator bars desperately, watching Bennet beat Gabriel to the ground. Her body throbbed with the desire to send a shower of electricity raining down on Bennet, to stop him, to do _something_—but she was trapped, helpless, _powerless_…she could only watch in silent, agonizing horror as Bennet plucked an X-acto knife from a nearby shelf and pulled Gabriel up roughly by his hair.

"Poor Gabriel," he said, his voice lit with vicious delight. "You always wanted to be special." He touched the blade to Gabriel's neck. "Look at you now," he taunted.

"No," Elle managed to choke out, her throat tight with unshed tears.

Bennet lowered his head so his mouth was close to Gabriel's ear.

"You're nobody," he hissed.

Elle saw a flash of fear in Gabriel's eyes, and then, with almost casual disinterest, Bennet drew the blade across Gabriel's neck.

Elle heard screaming as Gabriel collapsed, dark red spreading down his neck onto his white shirt. Then she realized that the screaming was inside her head. She wanted to scream out loud, to scream and cry and thrash against the elevator bars, because maybe if she did she would wake up and this would all be a terrible dream, but somehow she couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. She just watched, immobilized, as Bennet walked away from the pool of blood growing around Gabriel's body, a satisfied smile on his face. He paused just long enough to favor Elle with a smug look as he retrieved his gun before he walked away, the clicking of his shoes on the storeroom's floor receding slowly into the distance.

When the echo of his footsteps faded away Elle felt the strength in her legs give way and she collapsed to the elevator floor, gasping for breath. The silence of the room was pressing down on her, compressing her lungs. No matter how deep a breath she took, she couldn't seem to get any oxygen into her system. With a shaky hand she reached up, blindly fumbling for the elevator's controls. She closed her eyes as the motor kicked in and the elevator climbed the final few feet to the storeroom floor.

It took all the strength Elle had to lift the elevator grate and stumble over to Gabriel's body. As she sank to the ground next to him she felt something warm dripping down her cheek. Touching a hand to her face she was surprised to find it wet with tears. She stared dumbly at her wet fingers for a moment before she bent over to lift one of Gabriel's shoulders off the ground, flipping him onto his back.

Gabriel's eyes were open, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, his face frozen in an expression of helpless terror.

The urge to cry overcame Elle and she collapsed onto Gabriel's unmoving chest, weeping uncontrollably. Gone. It was all gone. The dream of starting over fresh, of a life free of all the things that tormented her as she lay in bed at night before sleep came. She choked on her tears, her body racked with sobs. She was completely alone. She couldn't go back to Pinehearst, to Petrelli, not when she had allowed his son to be killed—and even if she thought that Petrelli would somehow be able to forgive her and welcome her back, she knew that she could never live that life, not now, not when everything was so empty. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She was completely, utterly alone.

God, why hadn't Bennet killed her too? Had he known what killing Gabriel would do to her, known the horrifying pain and loneliness she would feel? Was this some attempt at punishment? Or had he wanted her alive to be some sort of witness to his triumph, to the fact that he had finally managed to destroy what he had created all those years ago?

What was she going to do?

She closed her eyes tighter against a resurgence of tears, pressing her face into Gabriel's chest to stifle her sobs, which sounded bitter and empty in her ears. Someone would be back here soon. If they didn't come looking for the suspicious couple leaving a trail of blood behind them, then someone would eventually come back looking for supplies. And if she was still here when they came…with a rapidly cooling corpse…she had to go, she had to get out. She knew that. But she couldn't leave Gabriel, not just yet.

Hiccupping, Elle pulled herself up from Gabriel's chest and wiped her eyes with her arm. Taking a deep breath and trying to control her trembling body, she reached out and gently closed his eyes. Then, fighting the urge to sob desperately, Elle bent down to kiss Gabriel's soft lips, one last time.

In a stupor she stumbled to her feet, clenching her teeth against the aching pain in her chest that drowned out the throbbing in her thigh. Through bleary eyes she focused on the exit sign that hung on the wall in front of her. _Just get to the sign_, she told herself. _Worry about what's on the other side when you get there._

Before she had even made it a quarter of the way she felt a surge of energy run up her spine and gasped, sparks flying down her arms and out through her fingertips. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she felt her power return, coursing through her body. _Too late_, she thought bitterly. _Just a few minutes too late._

Then, from behind her, she heard Gabriel gasp.

She turned in a daze. Gabriel was on his side, one hand pressed to his throat as he coughed thickly, his throat full of blood. Elle didn't know where she found the energy to run to Gabriel, but the next thing she knew she was at his side, holding him up as he fought for air. He clutched at her arm with white-knuckled fingers, closing his eyes as the torn skin of his neck knitted itself back together. He took a deep, shaky breath, still hanging on to her arm with a vice-like grip.

"Gabriel, God," Elle managed to cry through yet another course of tears. "You were…I thought you…I mean, you were…"

"Dead," Gabriel gasped, his voice raw. "I was dead…"

Elle threw her arms around him in a violent hug, weeping into his shoulder. Gabriel touched a shaking hand to her back comfortingly.

"It's okay, Elle," he said, clearing his throat. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"I thought you were gone forever!" Elle sobbed, clutching at his shirt with tight fists, afraid to let go because if she did she was sure he would leave her. "Our powers were gone, you couldn't heal—God, Gabriel, I didn't know what I was going to do!"

"It's all right now, Elle," Gabriel murmured soothingly, stroking her hair. "Everything's going to be all right."

All of Elle's fear and anguish suddenly transformed itself into violent, furious anger.

"ALL RIGHT?" she shouted, punching his shoulder, sparks flying off her fist. "Nothing's going to be ALL RIGHT! Don't you understand? Our powers are back! Our POWERS! We're trapped, Gabriel, just like we always were—we're trapped and there is nothing, NOTHING we can do to—"

Gabriel took her face in his hands, cutting of her outburst with a fierce, passionate kiss that knocked the breath right out of Elle's lungs.

"It _is_ going to be all right, Elle," he said with bright eyes when their lips parted. "It is!" He kissed her again, deeply enough to send shivers down Elle's spine. "I finally understand. I can see it all now."

Elle was still hazy from the kisses, and couldn't quite think straight. "I…see what, Gabriel?"

"What I need," Gabriel answered, tracing the contour of Elle's face with a gentle finger. "I was dead, Elle. I've died before, but this time—I don't know much about religion, Elle, but I went somewhere. I can't tell you where because I really don't know, but wherever I was, I…I felt happy. Safe. At peace. I've never been so…" He shook his head. "The point is, I just realized what it is that I need to have that kind of peace and happiness in this life, what I need to keep the hunger at bay."

Elle shook her head, confused. "Gabriel, I don't understand."

"_You_," Gabriel said, staring into her eyes intensely. "Elle, I need you. Nothing else. What I said about reinventing ourselves, free of powers or parents, I was wrong, Elle. Our powers will always be a part of who we are. But parents—Elle, we don't need them, we don't need the company, or Pinehearst, or anyone. All we need is each other!" He took her hands and squeezed them tightly. "Elle. We can go. We can leave it all behind and go, just _go_. We don't need anything—except Elle, I need _you_. Come with me, Elle. Let's just run away. Right now. What do you say? Will you go with me?"

Elle felt a moment of terror at the idea, but then she looked into Gabriel's deep, dark eyes, staring pleadingly into her own, so hopeful…and all the fear just melted away, as if it had never existed in the first place. She ran a hand through his hair and brushed her lips against his softly.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time they were tears of joy.

"Yes, Gabriel, I will go with you."


	2. Blood on Blood

Thank you so much to everyone who added me and my story to their favorite's lists! And a special thank you to those of you who left reviews--because, as always, reviews are the highlight of this writer's day! I'm glad that you're all enjoying the story so far. Right now I have an outline for the entire story, and in case anyone is wondering I will in fact be introducing little Noah into the story. But that's later. My plan right now is to try and get a chapter up every couple of days, and I'm going to try to stick to that plan--if I mess up I apologize in advance and promise that I will keep updating as quickly as possible. And, of course, I don't own any of the Heroes characters, and all that jazz. Enjoy!

* * *

_Blood on blood, one on one,_

_We'd still be standing when all was said and done,_

_Blood on blood, one on one,_

_And I'll be there for you till Kingdom come,_

_Like blood on blood.  
_

_

* * *

_Elle's legs were shaking, but not because of the gunshot wound Bennet had inflicted on her. She leaned on Gabriel heavily as they walked, trying to blend in despite their lack of proper clothing and the bloody bandage on Elle's leg as they beat a hasty retreat from the store where the sounds of sirens were beginning to converge. A police car flew by them on the street and Gabriel pulled Elle into an dark alley and led her away from the street.

"What's the plan?" she asked.

Gabriel chuckled, his voice betraying the same nervous energy that Elle felt.

"To be honest, I don't really have one," he admitted. "I guess I just figured we would…go. Away from here."

Elle hugged him tighter. "I meant, what's the plan for right this second, silly," she said, smiling. "As in, where are you taking me? I assume you have a destination in mind, since you're not stopping to look around?"

"We're not moving too fast, are we? Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm fine, Gabriel," Elle reassured him, her heart pounding just a little faster at the sound of concern in his voice. "Just curious."

"Oh. Well, if you really must know…I'm taking you to a hospital."

Elle stopped.

"A hospital? Gabriel, I think that whole dying thing must have damaged your brain."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

"Gabriel, you know that if we go to a hospital and they see that I've been shot they'll call the cops!"

He frowned. "Elle, you got shot. I can heal, you can't. We have to make sure you're not seriously hurt."

"I'm fine! Like I said! Honestly, if it was that bad, do you think I'd be able to walk?"

Gabriel shook his head, crossing his arms. "I think you're a lot tougher than you put on, for one thing," he said. "And I doubt you'd admit it to me if you were in a serious amount of pain. Anyway, you're probably right. But even so…" He took her hand. "Elle, I don't want to start a new life with you only to have you die of gangrene."

Elle wanted to protest, but Gabriel's eyes were so filled with knee-weakening affection and concern that instead she just sighed.

"Okay," she conceded, smiling wearily. "You win. But what, exactly, do you plan to say once we get to the hospital? What are we going to tell them?"

Gabriel shrugged. "The truth."

Elle laughed. "Oh, yeah. That'll go over well."

"Not the _whole_ truth," Gabriel said. "But…well, we can say that we were in bed, and a maniac burst through the door and started shooting. That is what happened, for the most part."

Elle opened her mouth to tell Gabriel that he was being silly and that it would never work. Then she thought about it, and realized that she was wrong. But something was bothering her. There was something buzzing around in her brain, right on the tip of her tongue. It was something important. She frowned, trying to concentrate.

"What?" Gabriel asked. "What's that face for?"

Elle shook her head. "There's something I'm forgetting, something about the hospital…"

She snapped her fingers. "That's it! Gabriel, I don't need a hospital!"

Gabriel frowned darkly. "I thought I told you—"

Elle cut him off, waving her hands dismissively. "I know, I know, but you don't understand. I've just remembered—a while back Bennet screwed up and got himself killed, shot in the head."

Gabriel looked surprised. "But how…"

"They brought him back. With Claire's blood."

Gabriel's eyes slowly widened.

"Ah," he said.

"If Claire's blood is enough to heal her Dad's gunshot wound, then _yours_ should be enough to heal _mine_!"

Gabriel looked thoughtful. "If makes sense, I guess. We'd probably need a needle, though."

Elle bit her lip. "I'm guessing that's not something that we can pick up at a corner store."

Gabriel chuckled. "Even if we could," he said. "There's another problem."

"What's that?" Elle asked.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at her bare legs. Glancing down, Elle took in her appearance. Gabriel's shirt, a pair of undershorts, and a makeshift, bloodstained bandage…then she looked at Gabriel, and his own blood stained shirt.

"You may have a point," she admitted. "Our choice of clothes might turn some heads." She looked down again and frowned. "Neither of us have shoes." A quick scan of the alley made her wish she had kept her head up—they were standing in the middle of a long stretch of concrete covered in dirt, mud, trash, vomit and puddles that looked like they had been sitting stagnant for years.

"We could go back to the house," she started to suggest, thinking of the incredibly comfortable shoes and blood free clothes they had left there.

"No way," Gabriel said.

"But Bennet thinks you're dead! No one else will be looking for us yet!"

"I don't care. We can't take that chance." He shook his head. "I guess I'll just have to steal us some new clothes."

Elle heard something strange in Gabriel's voice. She took his hand and looked up at him with concern.

"I'm fine," Gabriel said, smiling. "I just…I've stolen a lot of things, and done a lot worse than that, but I've never actually felt bad about it before." He shrugged. "It's just…weird."

Elle stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Gabriel's nose tenderly. He smiled and ran a hand down the side of her face as they gazed into each other's eyes. It was a perfect moment. Then a spasm of pain shot up Elle's leg and she collapsed. Gabriel caught her in his arms and gently lowered her to the ground.

"Okay, first things first," he said sternly. "We need to get you patched up."

"But where are we going to find a needle?"

Gabriel looked thoughtful. "Maybe we don't need one after all." He was quiet for a moment.

"Take off your bandage."

Elle did as she was told, trying not to wince in pain, as she watched Gabriel walk down the alley, scouring the ground. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"This," he said, bending to scoop up a jagged shard of glass. He jogged back to Elle's side, crouching to help her remove the rest of her bandage. "Okay." He probed her wound with a gentle finger. "This is going to hurt," he told her. "The wound's started to heal—I'm going to have to open it back up again."

Elle closed her eyes. "Do it quickly?"

Gabriel kissed her forehead.

"Sorry," he murmured. Then he pulled sharply at the skin on both sides of the wound. A cry of pain escaped Elle's lips. She clutched at Gabriel's shoulder, her breath ragged. She heard Gabriel grunt and opened her eyes to watch him drop the bloodied shard of glass and hold his torn palm over her thigh. Quickly, his cut already beginning to heal, Gabriel squeezed out a few drops of blood that dripped onto Elle's leg, and into her wound. Elle closed her eyes again as another wave of pain washed over her. She felt Gabriel's steadying hands on her leg. What seemed like a lifetime passed. Then, suddenly, the pain began to fade. Elle looked down and watched in awe as the skin of her leg healed over the bullet hole, leaving only drying blood as evidence that if had ever existed.

"That's…so…_cool_!" she breathed.

Gabriel smiled and kissed her leg. Elle squealed and squirmed out of his grip.

"Ticklish, are we?" Gabriel asked, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "I'll have to remember that for later."

"Don't you dare!" Elle laughed, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. Gabriel put his hand on her leg and she took a shaky breath as her heart began to beat faster.

"Um," she said, because it was the only word she could remember how to pronounce.

"I don't know about you," Gabriel said, seeming to ignore her reaction to his touch. "But after I find us some clothes, I could really use some food, and a hotel room—preferably one with a really, really comfortable bed."

"That sounds amazing," Elle sighed. "God, I am _so_ tired. I feel like I could sleep for a week!"

Gabriel pulled her to her feet, slipping one hand around her waist. He pu this lips close to her ear as he pulled her body up against his.

"I doubt you'll be getting much sleep," he murmured darkly.

If Elle's heart had beat any faster, she was fairly certain she would have needed that hospital after all.


	3. Thank You For Loving Me

I don't own Heroes, and all that jazz.

* * *

_It's hard for me to say the things I want to say sometimes._

_There's no one here but you and me, and that broken old street light._

_Lock the doors, we'll leave the world outside._

_All I've got to give to you are these five words when I thank you for loving me._

_For being my eyes when I couldn't see,_

_For parting my lips when I couldn't breathe,_

_Thank you for loving me.  
_

* * *

Gabriel could see that Elle didn't like the clothes he had picked out for her, but was trying very hard not to let him see it.

"You hate them," he observed.

"No!" Elle said quickly. "No, Gabriel, they're very…um…"

He chuckled. "It's okay, you can admit it."

Elle sighed and favored him with an apologetic smile. "It's just that I don't wear dresses too often. I'm more of a slacks and jeans kind of girl."

"I know," Gabriel said. He shrugged. "I just wanted to see what you looked like in it, I guess."

Elle looked at him, and then looked down at the dress again. It was a white sun dress with red trim. It was light and airy, and Gabriel thought that she would look absolutely divine in it.

"You know," Elle said slowly, tilting her head as she continued to scrutinize the dress. "It may not be what I'm used to wearing, but…well, we're reinventing ourselves, so what the hell? I'm not a company girl anymore, so why should I keep dressing like one?" She smiled at him brightly. "For you, I'll give it a shot."

She began to unbutton her shirt, giving Gabriel a coy look and turning her back on him. Smiling, Gabriel turned and tended to his own clothes.

"I assume you brought me some shoes as well?" Elle asked. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. Elle had finished dressing; she looked even better in the dress than Gabriel had imagined. She crossed her arms and batted her eyes at him coquettishly.

"Unless , that is, you plan to carry me?"

Gabriel held out the flip-flops he had swiped. Elle laughed. "The height of fashion," she teased as she slipped them on.

"I thought they looked comfortable," Gabriel said defensively as he pulled his new, clean t-shirt over his head, discarding the bloodied one on the alley floor.

"They're absolutely perfect," Elle reassured him, kissing his cheek. "And they _are_ comfortable. You did good." Then she frowned and put a hand on her stomach. "You said something about food earlier?"

"That I did," Gabriel confirmed. "What's your pleasure?"

Elle thought about it.

"You know, I have absolutely no idea!"

Gabriel smiled. "Then I guess it's my choice."

"Hey, what are we going to do about food money?" Elle asked. "I mean, I suppose we could steal supplies, but…well…"

"I've got that at least partially covered," Gabriel said sheepishly, pulling a wad of cash out of his back pocket.

Elle's eyes widened. "Where did you get _that_?"

Gabriel felt his face getting hot, and was surprised to realize that he was blushing. He hadn't blushed for a _long_ time.

"I, uh…I stole it," he admitted. "It's not a lot…not enough to hurt the store I took it from too much, but enough for us to eat, find a cheap hotel…and to get far away from here."

Elle nodded. "You really didn't have a choice, you know," she said, and Gabriel smiled at the reassurance in her voice. "I mean, if either of us tried to access any of our own savings—not that I have very much, I don't know about you—well, that would put us on the grid, and then…"

"If either of my parents wanted to find us after that, they would," Gabriel finished grimly. "The only way to stay out of their grasp is to disappear completely."

Elle rubbed her leg through the dress absently. Gabriel imagined that she was dwelling on the wound that no longer existed, as he so often did ever since gaining Claire's ability.

"But do you think we can _actually_ disappear? I mean, from them? Your mother can see the future, and your father...well, I don't even know everything he can do!"

"My mother can see the future, yes, but she sees in dreams, and they aren't always easy to understand. I doubt that, even if she caught a glimpse of us, she would be able to interpret our exact locations."

"And your father?"

Gabriel frowned.

"He is powerful," he admitted. "But again, I don't think that any of his powers deal specifically with locating individuals. But…if he does somehow find us…well, let's burn that bridge when we come to it."

Elle nodded. "Okay, then," she said. "I guess that's…reassuring." She didn't sound convinced.

Gabriel slid his arms around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Hey," he said. "Don't worry about it. It'll be a good while before my father thinks to look for us—I don't think he expected us to be able to get Claire quickly or easily, and if he suffered the same temporary loss of power that we did he'll probably be giving us a little more time to make up for it. And by the time he _does_ realize that something is wrong, we'll be far, far away."

Elle bit her lip, linking her hands behind Gabriel's back.

"It's not that I don't trust you," she said slowly. "But…Gabriel, your father…he scares me. More than…more than you used to." She looked up into his eyes. "You…you've killed, you've done…awful things…but you feel remorse for those things now. He…he doesn't care. He never has, and I don't think that he ever will." She shook her head. "Gabriel, you're his son, and he would probably kill you without a second thought."

"He would," Gabriel agreed. "He wanted me to kill Peter, at Primatech, when I threw him out the window."

Elle shuddered. Gabriel hugged her tighter. "Elle, if it'll make you feel safer, let's get on a bus right now and get the hell out of here."

Elle nodded violently. "Let's do that."

A quick kiss on Elle's forehead, and then Gabriel pulled away from her to take her hand.

"Come on," he said, smiling. "Time to face the big bad world."

They found a bus depot without too much trouble, and after scouring the destination board Gabriel picked the stop furthest out into the middle of nowhere and paid the surprisingly cheap tickets. On the bus Elle announced that she was far too hungry to stay awake, and proceeded to fall asleep on Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel felt sleep creeping up on him but forced himself to stay awake, putting a protective arm around Elle and losing himself in the sweet smell of her hair as he watched the scenery passing by through the window.

When they reached their destination Gabriel was pleased with his choice. It was the smallest town he had ever seen. The biggest building was the hotel which, though it didn't look to be of the best quality, did look cheap. Gabriel managed to wake Elle, though she was rather grumpy, and, as the sun set, Gabriel bought them a room and they checked in.

The room was just as bad as Gabriel had expected when he saw the low price tag, but there was a bed, and the water in the bathroom worked. Elle flopped on the bed and sighed heavily.

"You know, it's surprisingly comfortable, if you don't look at it too hard."

Gabriel chuckled and sat down next to her, rubbing his eyes, which were suddenly burning with exhaustion.

"You look tired," Elle said. Gabriel smiled.

"You'd be surprised how much dying takes out of you," he replied sardonically.

Elle frowned. "Gabriel, if you're that tired you should have slept on the bus!"

"I'm fine," Gabriel reassured her. "Besides, you look really cute when you're asleep."

Elle smiled.

"Come here," she whispered.

Gabriel looked at her silently, his dark eyes staring deeply into hers. Then, slowly, he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

"I love you, Elle," he murmured softly.

The words actually surprised Gabriel, as though a stranger had spoken. But as soon as he said it, Gabriel realized it was true. It was absurd, when he thought about it. He loved her—the girl who had lied to him, manipulated him, and set him on the path towards the monster he had become—but no, that wasn't who she really was, or who _he_ really was. Their pasts really didn't matter anymore, because he _loved_ her. He took a deep breath, studying Elle's face as he waited anxiously for her reply.

A slow smile spread across her pink lips.

"I love you too," she whispered. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

Gabriel returned the kiss with equal fervor, but this kiss was different from before. Gabriel felt closer to Elle than he ever had before. Not physically, of course; you couldn't get much closer physically than they already had. But there was something so exciting about having said those three simple words out loud, and meaning them. His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum, partially because Elle's intoxicating smell was filling his lungs and he desperately wanted her. But more than that, he felt a thrill at the idea of being in love. He wanted to say it again, to tell Elle exactly how he felt about her.

So he did.

"I love you, Elle," he said. "I love your lips, love your nose, your eyes—I love the way you laugh, the way you cry, the way your lower lip sticks out when you're mad…"

Elle cut him off with a gentle finger on his lips.

"Stop talking," she said softly, kissing his cheek.

She smiled brightly.

"And get me some pizza."


	4. Seat Next To You

_Life is like a ferris wheel, spinning around: when you get to the top, it's hard to look down._

_Just hang on, we'll make it through...save me a seat next to you._

_When you get to the gates and the angels sing, go to that place where the church bells ring._

_You know I'll come running, running to find you..._

_Baby, say that you'll take me wherever you're going to._

_Maybe I want you to save me_

_A seat next to you.  
_

* * *

Elle felt herself waking up and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep. But sunlight was peeking through her eyelids, annoyingly persistent, and she finally gave up.

The hotel bed had turned out to be a lot more comfortable than she had originally expected. But then, maybe the reason she felt so comfortable wasn't the bed, but who she was sharing it with.

She snuggled up against Gabriel, nestled in the crook of his arm, with her head resting on his chest. She could feel his breath going in and out, smooth and steady. He was still sleeping (_lucky!_) and Elle watched him for a few minutes. His face was completely relaxed, free of worries or cares. He looked younger, almost innocent, more like he had been when they first met. He looked so cute that Elle couldn't help herself—she had to kiss him. She tried very hard not to move too much, to only brush her lips against his—but it was still enough to wake him.

He opened his eyes and smiled sleepily.

"Good morning," he murmured, and she kissed him again.

"Did you sleep well?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around Elle.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I did, actually. How long did we sleep? It felt like a week!"

Elle twisted around to get a look at the old alarm clock that sat on the table. She laughed. "It's past noon!"

"Wow," Gabriel said. "I guess we were both a little behind on our sleep."

Elle's stomach grumbled.

"Hey, I can't remember, was there any more pizza left?"

"I think so," Gabriel replied.

Reluctantly Elle untangled herself from Gabriel's embrace and plucked the box of pizza up from the floor on the side of the bed.

"Grab me a piece?" Gabriel asked. In response Elle put the box down on his stomach and opened it.

"Hm," she said. "No, I don't think there's enough here for both of us. No pizza for you."

"Hey!" Gabriel laughed, reaching out and grabbing Elle's arm with one hand. With the other hand he began to tickle her.

"Stop it!" Elle squealed, laughing uncontrollably as she tried to squirm out of his grip. Gabriel held onto her for a few moments longer before he let go. When he released her, Elle fell backwards onto the bed. She sprang back up, and as Gabriel plucked a piece of cold pizza from the box she grabbed a pillow and hit him on the back of the head—or, at least, she tried to. The pillow halted in mid-air an inch away from him. Gabriel smiled and took a large bite of pizza. Elle scowled and took a piece for herself.

"That's kind of annoying, you know," she said, her mouth full.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," Gabriel replied with a shrug.

Elle smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Yeah, I do," she agreed.

Gabriel offered Elle his arm and she gladly snuggled up against him while they finished their breakfast—or lunch, it didn't really matter. When the last piece had been devoured, Gabriel cleared his throat.

"I don't know about you," he said. "But I could really use a shower."

"Mm," Elle agreed. "I think I've still got some dried blood on my leg." She sighed. "What're we going to do after that?"

He shrugged. "Keep moving, I guess. Until we find somewhere. I don't have a clue _where_ we should go, but I figure maybe we'll just keep going, and let chance guide us."

Elle absentmindedly ran her fingers through Gabriel's hair. "Do you really think we'll find a place where we can belong?"

Gabriel looked at her. "Why shouldn't we?"

Elle made a face. "We're not exactly normal, if you hadn't noticed," she said, letting a few blue sparks crackle out of her fingers for effect.

Gabriel scratched his head. "You do have a point. But everyone has something about them that's out of the ordinary. And it's not like we're the only people in the world with powers. Just because neither of us has had a 'normal' life doesn't mean we can't make one for ourselves if we want to. And when we find a life that suits us, there's no reason that our powers should get in the way."

Elle was silent for a moment. Then she buried her face in Gabriel's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gabriel," she said. "You must be getting tired of reassuring me so much. I don't mean to be such a downer."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Don't be silly. I could never get tired of you, Elle."

She blushed. "I call dibs on the shower," she said, gathering the sheets around herself, suddenly embarrassed.

Gabriel slid out of bed after her, grabbing her hand.

"Hang on," he said, grinning. "I'll come with you."

After they finished showering they got dressed, and Elle commented that they would eventually need more than one set of clothes. Gabriel counted their money and decided that they had enough for a few extra outfits. Elle didn't mention anything about stealing more money or clothes, and she could tell that Gabriel was grateful.

Once they had checked out of the motel, they hopped on a new bus. Fully rested, neither of them was lulled to sleep by the vibration of the bus engine, and they spent the entire ride getting to know each other better. It was kind of funny when Elle thought about it—they were in love, and running away together, but when it came right down to it they knew very little about each other. They talked about stupid, trivial things…favorite foods and colors, pet peeves, early memories…Elle was struck by how unhappy her life had been so far, but she didn't let it bother her. Instead she moved closer to Gabriel and smiled, because she knew that her memories from now on would be much, much better.

The bus stopped at a rest station with a diner that night. The bus driver informed them that they would get going again after they had eaten, so Gabriel and Elle sat at the diner bar and debated how much of their limited budget they could spend.

They finally decided on a hamburger platter which was big enough for both of them together. Deciding to splurge as a celebration of the first day of the rest of their life, they split a chocolate milkshake. With their heads close together, sipping from the same drink, Elle imagined for a moment that they were teenagers on a first date. She grinned, glancing at Gabriel with a twinkle in her eye.

"What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do I have ketchup on my face or something?"

"No," Elle said, shaking her head. "I just…this is nice. You know, sitting here, next to you. Just…sitting."

Gabriel squeezed her hand and took another sip.

They were almost finished with their meal when a bad feeling crept up Elle's spine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two men enter the diner. She saw Gabriel's eyes narrow. He began to turn around. Then the two men pulled guns out from under their jackets and one of them unloaded two shots into the ceiling. The patrons screamed.

"Everybody on the ground, NOW!" the robbers demanded.

As the other customers dove to the floor, Gabriel stood, moving protectively in front of Elle, his fists clenched.

The taller of the two robbers scowled at him.

"Did you not hear me, pretty boy?" he drawled, pointing the gun at Gabriel's chest. "_On the floor_."

"I think you should leave," Gabriel growled. Elle shuddered involuntarily at the dangerous sound of his voice.

The robber laughed. Then he pulled the trigger, shooting Gabriel five times in the chest.

Ignoring the wave of panic and concern that washed over her, because she knew Gabriel would be all right, Elle stepped forward and released a massive burst of energy, knocking the assailant to the floor. The second robber froze for a second, his jaw slack, and then brought his own gun up, pointing it at Elle. Before he could pull the trigger Gabriel was back on his feet, and sent the robber flying across the diner with a wave of his hand.

They collected the unconscious men's weapons out of reflex. Elle's heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through her system. She looked around and swallowed hard.

"Gabriel," she said softly. He looked up.

Everyone in the diner was staring at them, eyes wide. But it wasn't just shock—Elle could see the fear on their faces that was rapidly transforming into revulsion.

"We should go," Gabriel muttered, taking her hand. "Come on."

They ran out of the diner into the night, holding on to each other's hands. Elle had no idea where they were going—but it didn't matter.

Because they were together.


	5. Welcome To Wherever You Are

_Maybe we're all different, but we're still the same. We've all got the blood of Eden running through our veins._

_I know sometimes it's hard for you to see: you're caught between just who you are and who you want to be._

_If you feel alone and lost and need a friend,_

_Remember every new beginning is some beginning's end._

_Welcome to wherever you are. This is your life; you've made it this far._

_Welcome. You've gotta believe that right here, right now, you're exactly where you're supposed to be._

_Welcome to wherever you are.  
_

* * *

Gabriel was cold, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he put it out of his mind. Elle was sleeping, leaning on his shoulder, the sound of her breath mingling with the sounds of the forest around them.

After they left the diner they had hit the highway, walking along the side of the road as the sun sank in the sky, trying to flag down a ride. But whenever someone had slowed down and got close enough to see Gabriel's bloodied shirt, riddled with bullet holes, they immediately hit the gas and sped away. They made it a few miles before Elle finally begged to stop for the night. Still miles from the next rest stop Gabriel had led Elle into the woods on the side of the road, found a large tree, and they settled in against the trunk, Gabriel's arm wrapped protectively around her.

Elle fell asleep fairly quickly, but Gabriel found himself drawn to the sounds of the forest. He could hear everything, it seemed—birds in the trees over head, bugs crawling in the ground…he could distinguish every rustling leaf, every swaying branch. And, overhead, through the cover of the trees, he could see the stars, bright and clear. He sighed, feeling content.

Something large rustled in the darkness out in front of them, and Gabriel peered into the gloom, trying to make out what it was. He could hear it approaching, moving with casual disinterest—it was _very_ big.

The bear emerged from the brush a few feet away from them and stopped, tilting its head as though confused. Gabriel looked at it calmly, watching its movements. The bear sniffed the air, taking a step closer to them. Then it stopped again.

Their eyes met, and the forest fell silent around them, observing the confrontation. Gabriel's skin buzzed as the primal parts of his brain surged with adrenaline, ready to do battle with the encroaching predator. But his rational side remained calm. He just kept looking into the bear's eyes, quiet.

The bear made a deep, rumbling noise, shuffling back and forth on its front paws nervously. Then, lowering its head to the ground, it lumbered backwards, away from Gabriel, disappearing again into the darkness.

The forest around them seemed to relax, and Gabriel sighed, his breath ragged, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm the part of him that had been excited by the possibility of conflict. He felt the hunger awake inside of him, the terrible urge to acquire power, to go after the predator that had encroached on his territory and take it apart piece by piece, to understand how it worked and to take its power for himself. His heart was pounding. He closed his eyes, struggling to keep himself under control. _Breathe_, he kept telling himself. _Breathe. Remember what's at stake. Remember Elle. And breathe. Keep breathing._

Elle awoke suddenly, sniffling.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, yawning.

Gabriel looked at her, at her angelic face, her halo of golden hair, her sparkling eyes, her adorable nose, her pouting pink lips that tasted so sweet…he took another deep breath and felt his heartbeat beginning to return to normal.

He forced a smile. "Yeah," he said. "Everything's fine."

He leaned his head on hers and closed his eyes. In a few minutes he was asleep.

The next few days were difficult. They managed to cover the remaining miles between them and the next rest station by mid-afternoon, slowed by lack of food. By the time they got there they were completely exhausted, running on fumes. But they couldn't get anything to eat until they cleaned Gabriel up. Gabriel gave Elle some of their money, but before she could buy a new shirt someone stumbled across Gabriel, called the police, and the two of them had to keep running. Elle was trying to act brave, but Gabriel could see that she was about to pass out from exhaustion. They stopped in the woods and Gabriel tried to find them something to eat. He came across some good looking berries, but when he tasted one he felt it attacking his system. The poison didn't stand a chance against him, but he refused to give them to Elle. For the rest of the day they kept searching, but to no avail. As the sun set that night they were desperate, and Gabriel used his powers to find and kill a rabbit. Elle helped him gather leaves and dried twigs and they lit a fire. The rabbit wasn't very good—it was stringy and bland, and there wasn't very much of it, but it was enough to take the edge off their hunger.

The next day they stumbled further down the road, but they couldn't reach the next rest station. They had an easier time finding food, though, because they stumbled across a strawberry field. Elle reckoned that there were so many thousands of strawberries that it wouldn't make any difference to anyone if they ate their fill.

So they did.

On the third day they finally managed to buy an un-bloodied shirt and sat down for an uneventful meal at a fast food joint. Gabriel had never been much of a fan of greasy French-fries and the like, but at the moment the meal was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. Though their funds were limited, they both decided that they had had quite enough of sleeping in the woods for the time being, and they checked in to another motel. This one was a little more expensive, probably because it came with a television. It had been a long time since either of them had ever watched TV, and they spent their night cuddled up together on the bed enjoying a night of mindless entertainment.

They kept moving like that, sometimes in hotels, sometimes managing to find other, less comfortable but far cheaper accommodations. They walked, they hitchhiked, they rode buses, subways…they just kept moving. Days turned into weeks, and their money continued to dwindle, no matter how hard they tried to budget. Gabriel knew that soon they would have to stop moving and find a way to make money, but they couldn't stop just anywhere. Elle deserved somewhere that she could make a home.

They hitched a ride with a trucker who left the grateful couple at a small town just off the highway in the middle of a desert, the only rest stop for 50 miles in every direction. They sat at the counter in the local restaurant—one of only a very few buildings—and it was at that moment that Gabriel realized they had less money than he had thought.

The waitress, a middle-aged pleasant looking brunette with a wide smile, walked up to them holding a pot of coffee in her hand.

"Evenin', friends," she said warmly. "What can I get ya?"

Gabriel winced as Elle smiled and greeted the waitress. "Um…what can we get for…" He spread the crumpled bills and coins he had fished out of his pocket on the counter. "Um, four dollars and 28 cents?"

The waitress tilted her head. "Runnin' a little low on funds there, hm?"

Elle's cheeks were pink. "I thought we had more left than that," she whispered. Gabriel shrugged, embarrassed.

"I'm really sorry," he told the waitress. "We should go. Sorry we bothered you."

He started to get up when the waitress reached across the counter and grabbed his sleeve.

"Hang on there, now," she said, setting down her pot of coffee. "Just wait a minute. I can't let a sweet lookin' young couple like you just wander out into the night unfed, now, can I?"

Gabriel sat back down. The waitress looked thoughtful.

"You, know, you look you could be mighty handy with the soap and water. And you, young lady, you have a lovely smile—ever try your hand at waitressing?"

Gabriel smiled slowly.

"Are you offering us food for work?"

The waitress grinned. "I believe I am."

Gabriel and Elle looked at each other and smiled.

"Well then, um…I'm sorry, what's your name?" Gabriel asked.

"Doris," the waitress answered.

"Well, Doris," Gabriel said. "I'm Gabriel, and this is Elle."

"It's nice to meet the both of you," Doris said with another smile. "Now, why don't you let me serve you up some of our house specials, and then we'll put you to work!"

And work they did. Once they had finished eating—the largest meal either of them had had in a long time, as Doris kept bringing them more and more plates of food—Gabriel headed back into the kitchen and began to wash dishes, and Doris gave Elle a uniform. Through the kitchen service window Gabriel watched out of the corner of his eye as Doris showed Elle the ropes, and Elle set about serving the highway dinner rush. She was nervous at first, but as the night progressed Gabriel saw her settle in to her element, and as he washed the continuous stream of dirty dishes he watched Elle's smile grow brighter and brighter. Washing dishes wasn't hard work, and it gave Gabriel plenty of time to think.

When their night of work was over, Gabriel watched Elle thank Doris profusely, still glowing. As Elle was sweeping the floor, Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Doris?" he asked.

"Yeah, hon?"

"I was just wondering," he said slowly. "You wouldn't possibly be looking for any more…permanent help?"

Elle stopped sweeping and stared at him.

"Gabriel?" she said, her eyes wide. "Do you…are you saying we should stay here?"

Gabriel shrugged.

"Anything that makes you smile like that deserves a shot."

There were tears in her eyes as she smiled. Doris crossed her arms, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Well, I'm all set for dishwashers—just short handed tonight because Manny was out with the flu—but I am in need of a good waitress…and to be honest, sweetie, you do have the knack for it…" She nodded. "No, if you want the job…you've got it."

Elle's face went blank with shock. Then she looked at Gabriel and laughed excitedly. Gabriel walked over to wrap her up in a fierce embrace.

"My God, Gabriel!" she gasped, her voice filled with excitement.

Gabriel kissed her gently.

"Welcome home, baby."


	6. Livin' on a Prayer

Hey all--sorry it took me so long to make an update. I caught some kind of a stomach bug over the weekend and was in no condition to write. But I'm back on my feet, so here you go--I'll try and keep updating every day or so. Thanks for reading, and for your patience!

* * *

_Tommy used to work on the docks. Union's been on strike, he's down on his luck, it's tough...so tough._

_Gina works a diner all day. Working for her man, she brings home her pay for love...for love._

_She says, we've gotta hold on to what we've got, it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not._

_We've got each other, and that's a lot._

_For love, we'll give it a shot._

_Oh, we're half way there, oh, livin' on a prayer,_

_Take my hand, and we'll make it, I swear._

_Livin' on a prayer.

* * *

_

Gabriel and Elle were holding hands, waiting as Doris finished closing up the diner. The chef, who had chatted amiably with Gabriel during the night in the kitchen, came out from the back, drying his hands.

"Jim, honey, it looks like Elle is going to be working with us for a while," Doris said, smiling.

The chef, Jim—who Gabriel surmised was Doris' husband—smiled too. "That's nice! So the two of you are going to be staying in town?"

"It looks that way," Gabriel said, squeezing Elle's hand.

"Where exactly are you staying?" Doris asked, in a tone of voice that suggested she already knew the answer.

Gabriel and Elle looked at each other. "We'll, uh…we'll find somewhere."

"I'll be interested to know where you can find a room for less than five dollars."

Gabriel scratched his head. "You have a point…but please, don't worry about us. We'll figure it out."

Jim and Doris looked at each other.

"There is a spare room in our house that the two of you could use, if you don't mind being a little cramped," Doris said.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I…really? Thank you. Thank you, so much!"

"Don't mention it, kiddo," Doris said, waving a dismissive hand. "Come on, we'll get you settled in."

The room was small, but there was a cot, and warm sheets, and it was infinitely better than sleeping outside. Elle and Gabriel thanked Doris and her husband profusely, which only made the older couple smile more. Then they left Gabriel and Elle to go upstairs and get some sleep.

Elle sat on the edge of the cot and laughed incredulously.

"I can't believe this is really happening," she said, shaking her head.

"Is that a good disbelief?" Gabriel asked, sitting next to her.

Elle laughed again. "I…yeah, I think so. I mean…this place! It's so…_not_ where I saw myself ending up. And a waitress? Do you know, way back when we first met, I told Bennet that I didn't want to…well, he threatened me with being on my own, and he asked what I would do—he suggested waitressing. It sounded awful! But tonight…I dunno, it just…thinking about it, it sounds boring, it sounds stupid, but it's _not_! Gabriel, I had so much fun!"

Gabriel smiled. "Yeah, I could tell."

"And Doris! Can you believe that she's just taking us into her home, just like that? She doesn't know who we are, she doesn't know where we came from—she doesn't know anything about us! For all she knows, we could be…well…what we used to be! I mean, who _does_ that?"

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised myself," Gabriel agreed. "But…well, this isn't the city. This place is…different. It's small, it's…I don't know, it just feels…"

"Safe," Elle finished for him.

"I don't want to jinx it," Gabriel said slowly. "But…I feel like maybe this could be the place. Our place."

Elle leaned against Gabriel, resting her head on his shoulder. "I think so too. Oh, Gabriel…it's so weird, but I…I feel like my heart is just…full. I don't even know how to really explain it…I really think we can be happy here."

Gabriel kissed the top of her head. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Upstairs, Doris and Jim were getting ready for bed. Jim cleared his throat.

"Doris, honey, you know I love you."

"But?" Doris asked, smirking.

He sighed. "But darling, really? Inviting random strangers into our home?"

Doris sighed. "I know. But really, Jim, they don't have anywhere else to go!"

"You don't know that for sure."

"Why would they lie?"

Jim shook his head. "People always have their reasons."

"Well I like to believe the best in people," Doris said stubbornly. "And not always assume the worst."

"I'm not saying that I think they're bad people," Jim said. "But we don't know anything about them. And if they _are_ in as bad straights as they say, what's to stop them from taking what they need from us?"

"They aren't going to rob us."

"How do you know?"

Doris was quiet for a moment. "I don't. But if they do…Jim, they're running from something. I can tell. And if they're in a bad enough way to have to steal from us…well, then they need it more than we do."

Jim walked over to kiss her cheek fondly.

"You've got a big heart, lady."

"I know," Doris agreed, cheerful. "The morning will bring what it will. So let's wait till then and see."

And in the morning, when they came downstairs, Doris smiled brightly when they saw that Gabriel and Elle were still there. Doris didn't say a word to her husband, but he could see the "I told you so" gleam in her eye.

Doris made Gabriel, who wanted to start searching for a job of his own, tag along when they went to open the restaurant, and before she let him leave she made him sit down at the counter.

"You'll not be finding any good work on an empty stomach," she said firmly. "So you're going to eat your fill before you go. Elle, why don't you wait on your man here?"

Elle grinned and leaned across the counter.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked playfully.

Gabriel smirked. "Maybe. What do you recommend?"

Elle shrugged. "Well, there's always my favorite."

"And what would that be?"

"Waffles."

Gabriel nodded. "Then I'll have waffles."

"You got it," Elle winked. "Oh, and by the way—tips are _always _appreciated."

After Gabriel finished his breakfast he headed out to look around town and see if anyone was looking for help. A few customers came in for breakfast, but for the most part the morning was slow.

"It's always like that, though," Doris explained to Elle during a lull. "Our rush comes at lunch and dinner, when people driving by on the highway get hungry and pull in for food and a bit of gas to fill up their tanks down the street at Sal's."

"How long have you been working here?" Elle asked, as she wiped off the counter with a wet rag.

"Well, Jim and I opened up the restaurant…oh, it must have been twenty-five, thirty years ago."

"You opened the restaurant? Yourself?"

Doris nodded. "Just goes to show you that life doesn't always go as planned."

"Oh?" Elle asked, incredibly curious but trying to act nonchalant.

"See, my parents wanted to send me to law school, but I never really wanted to be a lawyer, and Jim and I were dating, and he had always wanted to run a restaurant—well, one day we decided to just up and do it. So we did, and we've never looked back."

Elle pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to smile too much. But Doris was an observant woman.

"So tell me, Elle," she said innocently. "What brings you and Gabriel to our little town in the middle of nowhere?"

Elle swallowed. "I, uh…"

"It's okay, dear," Doris said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm too curious for my own good."

Elle adjusted her pony-tail nervously. "No, it's…" She sighed. "It's kind of a long story."

"Don't worry about it," Doris said, turning away.

"Doris," Elle said quickly, before she could walk away. "You're being so kind to us…giving me a job, giving us food, taking us in…you deserve to know something about the people you're being so kind to." She fiddled with her uniform. "Gabriel and I…we're kind of…trying to escape our pasts. Our families…well, his family, really…they're kind of like…like a poison. They were making us into people that we didn't want to be, people that…that did things, bad things…We realized that we would never be able to have a happy life, or a life together at all, as long as we were within their reach, so…we ran. We left our old lives behind with practically nothing. Just each other."

Doris took Elle's hand and squeezed it. It was the first time that Elle had ever held hands with someone besides Gabriel. She felt a swell of fondness for the older woman.

"I'm glad you told me," Doris said with a motherly smile. "And you don't have to tell me anything more. I'm glad that Jim and I could be here to help the two of you out. I know how scary it can be to be all on your own. I've been there."

"But things seem to have worked out really well for you," Elle said hopefully. "I mean, you and Jim seem really happy."

"We are," Doris nodded. "I've never regretted my decision to live my life with him for one moment. Because no matter how bad things may have gotten, no matter what troubles we may have had—money troubles, whatever—it was okay because we had each other to hold on to."

Elle's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. "I've been thinking the same thing a lot lately," she said softly. "I don't know what I would do if Gabriel wasn't here with me."

Doris gave Elle a wink. "Well then it's a good thing that you'll never have to find out. Now…" She nodded at the door, where a family of four was coming in. "Why don't you head on over and see if those people are looking for a little brunch?"

Elle went to seat the family at one of the booths. Doris glanced through the serving window into the kitchen, where Jim gave her a knowing smile.

Doris shook her head, chuckling.

"Ah," she sighed, watching as Elle handed out menus. "Young love…"


	7. Diamond Ring

_When you're hungry I will fill you up,_

_When you're thirsty, drink out of my loving cup._

_When you're crying, I'll be the tears for you._

_There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you._

_Diamond ring, wear it on your hand._

_It's gonna tell the world I'm your only man._

_Diamond ring, diamond ring, baby, you're my everything._

_Now you've got me on your string..._

_Diamond ring.  
_

* * *

The Jones family was in the middle of a very long drive. They had left early that morning, hoping to avoid traffic, but a large accident on the freeway had dashed those hopes. They only made it a hundred miles before lunch, which put Mr. and Mrs. Jones on edge. At lunch the children were restless and threw small tantrums when the restaurant was out of their chosen meal. They were all in bad moods when they climbed back in the car, and the next few hours were extremely uncomfortable. The children bickered in the backseat, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones argued over directions even though they knew exactly where they were going. They had planned to be at their parents' house by dinner, but when eight o'clock rolled around and they were still more than 200 miles from their destination, they had to admit defeat. So when, in the middle of the desert, they saw a sign indicating the only exit for miles around, they took it as a blessing and steered off the highway.

They entered the diner wearily, welcoming the smell of food that wafted out of the kitchen. They sat in a booth, and from behind the counter a young blonde waitress caught their eye.

"Be there in a second!" she said, smiling as she refilled the coffee cups of a few patrons at the counter. She put the coffee pot down and came over, a stack of menus in her hands.

"Evening, folks!" she said, distributing the menus. "I'm Elle, I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you all something to drink?"

Even though they were all tired and grumpy from their long drive, there was something very comforting about the waitress' warm, honest smile. They placed their drink orders, feeling relaxed.

After a minute Elle came back over to the booth.

"So, have you decided what you'd like?" she asked, pulling a small notebook out of the front pocket of her apron.

Mr. Jones scratched the tip of his nose. "I don't know," he admitted. "What would you recommend? What's good here?"

"Well, _everything_ is good," Elle said. "And I'm not just saying that because the chef is my boss." The family chuckled. "But if you're looking for something _really_ good, well, you can't go wrong with Jim's spaghetti. It's kind of his specialty."

"That sounds great," Mr. Jones decided. The rest of the family ordered, and in just a few minutes Elle came back with their food balanced on her arms.

"Enjoy, folks," she said with another wide smile. "And if you need anything, just holler." She went back to the counter to greet a few more customers who had just come in.

The family was almost done with their meal when a handsome young man walked in. he pulled a dark blue apron with the logo from a hardware store down the street off as he came through the door. Elle looked up at the tinkle of the bell over the doorway and when she saw him her smile got even brighter. He sat on a stool and Elle leaned across the counter to give him a quick kiss.

"How was your day?" she asked. He sighed.

"Good. Really good. But long. We did inventory today."

"Ooh, sounds like fun," Elle teased, still smiling.

"How was _your_ day?" the young man asked.

"Great!" she beamed. "Hungry?"

"You know I am," he smirked.

"The usual?"

"Please."

The other waitress, an older brunette, winked at the young man as she passed by behind the counter.

"Hey, hot shot," she said.

"Hi, Doris. How's business today?"

"Same old."

"Good to hear."

Elle returned with a plate of steaming food.

"Ah, looks great," the young man said.

"Only the best for you," Elle said, leaning over the counter to kiss him again.

"Hey, Elle?" the young man asked, as she started to walk away.

"Hm?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I…wanted to ask you something."

"Sure. What's up?"

He cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. He was fingering something in his back pocket.

Elle chuckled. "Well, what is it, already? Spit it out!"

He smiled nervously, and pulled whatever it was out of his pocket in a balled up fist.

"I've been thinking," he said slowly. "And, well…" He glanced around at the other people in the diner. "Elle…" He sighed. "Would you come around? I feel weird talking over the counter like this."

Elle looked confused but obliged, walking around the counter to stand next to him. He stood up from his stool, the balled fist behind his back.

"Elle, um…" He took a deep breath and dropped down to one knee, opening the fist to reveal a small ring.

"Elle, will you marry me?"

Elle looked stunned. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the ring. Then she looked at the young man.

"Gabriel…" she breathed. "I…"

He swallowed hard. "This is supposed to be the part where you…you know, say something. Like…yes?"

She gasped. "Oh, I—oh, God, Gabriel, _yes_! Yes, yes, I will marry you!"

He laughed excitedly as Elle held out her hand and he slipped the ring onto her finger. "It's not real," he admitted. "I mean, I couldn't, you know, afford a real one."

"Gabriel, it's _perfect_!" she said, throwing her arms around him. "Oh my _God_!"

Behind the counter the other waitress clapped excitedly, and as Gabriel and Elle kissed, the rest of the diner patrons joined in the applause.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones squeezed each others' hands, smiling. Suddenly, their bad day seemed to have gotten a whole lot better.


	8. You Had Me From Hello

Sorry again for the delay--I wanted to get this chapter right, and...well, I'm a horrible slacker! Sorry, sorry, sorry! And thanks everyone for the lovely reviews, both positive and negative--feedback of any kind is always enormously appreciated! I will try really hard to update quicker from now on.

* * *

_When we walk into a crowded room, it's like we're all alone._

_Everybody tries to kidnap your attention, you just smile and steal the show._

_You come to me and take my hand, and we start dancing slow._

_You put your lips up to my ear, and whisper, way down low..._

_The first time I saw you, it felt like coming home._

_If I never told you, I just want you to know..._

_You had me from hello._

_And when you're laying down beside me, I feel your heartbeat to remind me..._

_From the first time I saw you, it felt like coming home..._

_If I never told you, I just want you to know..._

_You had me from hello._

_From hello.  
_

* * *

In a small town, truly exciting things don't happen all that often. People rolled through off the highway, but they never stayed for long. There were birthdays and anniversaries, and the occasional good news from friends and family out of town, but not much else. So when something truly monumental happened, people always took the opportunity to celebrate.

Gabriel and Elle had been a breath of fresh air in their own particular small town. They were young and in love, and they brought the community together like lost children in need of parents. They fit in, something that didn't often happen when strangers intruded in on a tight-knit group. And so, when Gabriel and Elle announced their engagement, the town exploded with frenzied excitement.

The first thing that was decided was that Elle needed a dress. She insisted, several times, that she didn't need anything fancy, didn't even need a dress, that she was perfectly fine in jeans and a t-shirt, but Doris would have none of it.

"You can't have a wedding, a _good_ wedding, without a dress, Elle, darling," she said definitively. She gave Elle a stern look, but Elle was feeling far too stubborn to back down.

"Doris, you know we can't afford a real wedding dress."

"True. But I may have a solution for that."

She did. Out of a trunk in her attic Doris produced an aged box tied in ribbon. She opened the box and pulled out its contents with a smile.

Elle gasped. "Doris, oh my God…"

"I wore it when Jim and I got married," Doris explained. "It'll be a little big for you, but I can make some alterations."

Elle reached out to brush her fingers against the delicate lace bodice. "It's…_gorgeous_!"

Doris smiled. "You'll look stunning in it, sweetie," she said. "You're beautiful anyways, but…well, every girl deserves to look extra special on her wedding day."

She held the dress up against Elle, observing the fit. Elle bit her lip, feeling a surge of emotion.

"Doris…"

She smiled gratefully.

"You've been so good to us," she said, shaking her head. "How can Gabriel and I ever repay you for everything you've done?"

Doris waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be silly, honey," she said. "You and Gabriel are like family, and families shouldn't ever hold debts against each other. Now…" She looked over the wedding dress again. "Why don't you try this on, and I'll get started with the alterations."

Before Elle followed Doris' advice she threw her arms around the older woman in a quick hug.

As Doris worked on pinning up the slack in the dress, Elle admired herself in the full length mirror in Doris' bedroom. She had never given much thought to weddings or wedding dresses before, but all of a sudden, looking at herself in the beautiful white lace and satin, she was overcome with excitement.

Doris clucked. "Stop fidgeting, Elle," she said sternly. "I don't want to stick you with one of these pins by accident."

"Sorry, Doris," Elle apologized. "I just…"

"I know, I know," Doris said, winking. "You've just got the pre-wedding jitters. Don't you worry, honey, Saturday will be here soon enough. Be thankful you decided to get married right away—imagine if you had decided to wait months, or even a year!"

Elle laughed. "You're right. But there really wasn't any reason to put it off…I mean, once we decided to do it, Gabriel and I just figured…why wait?"

After Doris finished pinning up the dress Elle slipped back into her own clothes and left to meet Gabriel for a few minutes while he was on a break at the hardware store.

"You look happy," he remarked, as she jogged up.

She realized she was beaming. "Oh, I just…Doris is going to let me wear her wedding dress," she said.

"Ah," Gabriel said knowingly. "You've been trying on wedding dresses. That explains it."

She shoved him playfully. "Jerk," she teased.

He grinned. "Lots of ribbons and frills?"

"No! It's very…pretty, okay?"

He kissed her nose. "I'm sure it is."

Elle smiled and reached up, plucking Gabriel's glasses from his face and setting them on the bridge of her nose. He had started wearing them again not long after they had run off together. When Elle had inquired why he stopped in the first place he had explained, with a shrug, that he hadn't thought they were very menacing. Elle had had to agree.

Gabriel chuckled. "You look very studious," he observed. "Can I have them back, please?"

"Why?" Elle asked, backing away out of his reach. "Blind as a bat?"

"Oh, I can see well enough," he grinned, reaching out a hand. Elle felt a gentle tug at her shoulders and jumped.

"Gabriel!" she laughed, surprised. "You shouldn't do that out here! Someone might see!"

"My glasses, please?"

She handed them over reluctantly.

"Thank you, dear," he said, his voice dry. He slipped the glasses back on.

"I've was thinking about something earlier," he said.

"What's that?"

"Were you planning on taking my name?"

Elle cocked her head to one side. "Huh," she said. "I hadn't thought about it before," she admitted. "But I don't have any special attraction to my name…yeah, sure, why not?"

He grinned wickedly. Elle frowned.

"What?" she demanded, thumping his chest. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he said innocently. "Just…what would that make your name?"

Elle was confused.

"Well…Gray. Elle Gray." Her eyes widened.

"Oh my _God_!" she cried. "Elle Gray? _Elle Gray_? It sounds like _tea_!"

Gabriel threw back his head and laughed. "Mrs. Elle Gray!"

She buried her face in his chest. "Oh, _man_!" she whined. "Gabriel, your last name sucks!"

"I'm sorry," he said, patting her back comfortably. "It's not on purpose."

Elle scowled. "Maybe I shouldn't marry you after all," she grumbled darkly.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him tightly. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

Elle looked up and saw that he was smiling. She slumped against him and sighed.

"No, I don't," she admitted. "I love you too much to care about my name sounding dumb."

"Well thanks, that's very nice of you."

"Even if it does sound _really_ dumb," she muttered. Gabriel laughed and kissed her.

The next three days that passed before the morning of their wedding were the slowest days that either of them had experienced in their entire lives. Elle found that the customers she served at the diner were completely insufferable, and Gabriel was bored out of his mind sweeping up and restocking the hardware store. But at last it was Friday night, and the entire town gathered to celebrate at Doris' Diner. Thankfully it was a slow night, and they had no passers-by from the highway to disrupt the festivities in and around the restaurant. In the midst of the party Doris took Gabriel by the sleeve and pulled him aside.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing," she asked. Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," he said. "Shouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes grooms get a little jittery. No cold feet?"

He laughed. "Cold feet? Not a chance! Believe me, there is nothing in the world that could keep me from marrying Elle tomorrow. I've wanted to marry her from the very first moment I laid eyes on her—though to be honest it took me a little while to realize it."

Doris smiled. "Good," she said. "Just wanted to make sure. You know that I adore the two of you—couldn't' be happier to have you living here with Jim and me. But to be honest, Gabriel…honey, I'm glad you kids are finally making it official, because it's _my_ house where the two of you have been living in sin." She winked and then strolled away, humming, leaving Gabriel in amused silence.

Saturday morning dawned. The only building that opened in the entire town was the church. The doors were thrown open and the building was filled with flowers and bright candles. The town gathered eagerly. It had been a long time since anyone had been married in that church. Most people, when they grew up and tied the knot with someone, did so elsewhere, closer to the rest of civilization.

Jim stood next to Gabriel at the altar, which amused him to no end, as some thought the original role of the best man was to defend the groom in a fight, should one arise. Jim was a strong man, to be sure, but Gabriel had trouble imagining him being anything but a hindrance should trouble arise. Still, it was nice that Jim had offered to stand up with him.

He was wearing an old tuxedo that Jim had lent him, one that actually fit him fairly well. It was a little short in the sleeves and the legs, but that was because Gabriel was taller than Jim. It didn't really matter, though, because no one was looking at him.

She appeared at the end of the aisle, a vision in white. Every eye in the church turned towards her. Gabriel felt his heart skip a beat. He had always thought that Elle was beautiful, but at this particular moment she looked even more breath-taking than he had ever imagined possible. He didn't know if it was the simple yet elegant wedding dress, or the way that the morning light shone on her golden hair, or the radiant smile that lit up her face, but there was something about her as she walked down the aisle that made Gabriel feel more in love with her than he ever had before. She stepped up next to him at the altar, her bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

As the priest (who was also, interestingly enough, the owner of the pharmacy) began to lead them through the ceremony, Gabriel found it hard to keep his eyes off of Elle. She glanced over at him several times before pressing her lips together to suppress a laugh.

"What?" she whispered.

Gabriel smiled. "Nothing," he whispered back. "Sorry." He tried to keep his eyes facing forward.

Then it was time for their vows. Elle had wondered aloud at one point, a few days back, if they might write their own vows.

"That would be interesting," Gabriel had said. "I wonder what Jim and Doris would think…'I promise to stand by your side when we do battle with evil, to heal you with my blood when you're injured, and to never try to cut your head open, no matter how bad the hunger gets.'"

Elle had made a face. "Oh, fine," she had said. "You're probably right. Stupid."

As the priest led them through their vows Gabriel could tell by the expression on Elle's face that she was thinking about the same conversation, and imagining what the reactions of their audience would be like. Elle shared a conspiratorial wink with him, and Gabriel grinned.

As he made his vows to Elle, slipping the cheap ring they had somehow managed to afford onto her finger, he reflected on the words. They had already experienced most of the extremes the lines mentioned. They had done the worse several times over, and things were certainly better now…they had definitely gone from richer to poorer…and they had knocked out sickness and health in the course of a single afternoon. But it was the final words that brought a smile to his face—"'til death do us part." Well, he had already died, and they hadn't parted yet!

He listened as Elle repeated the same words back to him, sounding like poetry when spoken in her musical voice. She slipped a ring matching her own onto his finger and his skin tingled against the cool metal.

Then the priest told Gabriel to kiss her.

Gabriel stepped forward, his eyes locked with Elle's, and slipped his arm around her waist. As she wrapped her arms around his neck he leaned down and did exactly as he was told.

He kissed his wife.

Over the past several months Gabriel had kissed Elle countless times, and every single one had been special—but this kiss was different. He didn't even notice that everyone in the church was on their feet, clapping ecstatically. All he cared about was holding her, kissing her, trying to convince himself that his moment was real.

Their lips parted and Elle stood up on her tip-toes to whisper in his ear.

"That's it," she murmured. "We're married. I am not Mrs. Elle Gray."

"Mrs. Tea," he whispered in return.

She laughed happily. Then they grabbed each other's hands and, holding on tight, they took their first steps as husband and wife, walking down the aisle and out into the bright morning sun.


	9. If I Was Your Mother

_If I was your mother, would you let me hold your hand?_

_Would you say you were my baby?_

_Would you always be my friend?_

_If I was your mother, could I teach you what's right?_

_Could I tell you stories, maybe tuck you in, and kiss you sweet goodnight?_

_Tell me what I've got to do to make my life mean more to you._

_I could get so close, it's true..._

_If I was your mother...  
_

* * *

Elle sighed contentedly and snuggled up closer to Gabriel. He tightened his arm around her waist.

"We should probably get some sleep," he pointed out. "We do both have to work in the morning."

Elle groaned. "Oh, God, the _last_ thing I want to do right now is _work_!"

He shrugged, dislodging her head from its comfortable position on his shoulder.

"You were the one who told Doris that you didn't need any time off."

She sat up. "Well why didn't you tell me to shut up?"

Gabriel smiled. "I did."

"Well why didn't you make me listen?"

Instead of answering, Gabriel ran his fingers slowly up Elle's back, tracing her spine. She sighed and pulled her knees up against her chest, resting her head.

"That feels good," she murmured.

He sat up and began to kiss her shoulders. She leaned back against him.

"I can't believe we're married," she said softly.

Gabriel looked up to see she was admiring the ring on her left hand.

"It does seem a little surreal," he admitted, fingering his own ring, which still felt odd every time he used his hand. He would probably get used to it eventually.

She twisted around so they were face to face.

"Do me a favor?"

"Sure," Gabriel agreed. "Anything."

"Pinch me."

He laughed. "Why do you want me to do that?"

"I dunno, I just…these past few days, everything's been so perfect…I feel like I've been walking around in a dream. Can you just pinch me so I know that I'm awake?"

Gabriel grinned.

"I can do better than that," he assured, and leaned in for a kiss.

Married life wasn't really all that different from the way things had been before. They still went through the same routines day by day—it was just that now, every once in a while, they would stop whatever they were doing and, for a few moments, just smile to themselves. Neither of them had ever really expected to get married…and yet, here they were.

Life was, for lack of a better word, perfect…and normal. Days came and went, mostly uneventful, and the Grays found themselves forgetting their old life as they grew accustomed to who they had become. It was hard to remember the Company, or Pinehearst, or any of the poisonous things that had played such hell with their lives before. They were…happy.

Then one day Elle wasn't feeling well. She was sluggish when they woke up, and Gabriel suggested that she stay in bed. But Elle insisted that she was fine, and forced herself to get up and get dressed. Gabriel was concerned, but decided not to argue, and just kissed her extra hard before he left for work.

Elle made it about twenty minutes into the day before she had to run to the bathroom. When Doris came in to check on her she found Elle sitting next to the toilet, her face pale.

"Honey! Are you okay?" she exclaimed, rushing to Elle's side.

"I'm…not feeling so good," Elle admitted.

Doris put her hand on Elle's forehead. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever," she clucked. "Did you throw up?"

Elle nodded, closing her eyes.

Doris frowned. "I guess it could be a stomach flu…" She trailed off into thoughtful silence. "Um…Elle, this is a very personal question, but…do you and Gabriel…use protection?"

Elle would have blushed if she had the energy.

"Uh…no."

Doris nodded. "And you're not on the pill?"

Elle shook her head.

"Elle, hon…you could be pregnant."

Elle laughed.

"Yeah, right. Me, pregnant. That's…" Her mind began to work, counting backwards. She realized, slightly shocked, that she couldn't remember when she had last had her period. She had been so caught up in the wedding and her new blissful life that it had completely slipped her mind. She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide.

"Oh my…Doris, I think I might be pregnant."

The older woman stood up, her hands on her hips.

"Well, there's one way to find out."

Gabriel was in the middle of sweeping up the hardware store when he glanced up and saw Elle walking by outside, her arms wrapped around herself. He wondered if she was coming to see him, but she just kept walking. Pressing his forehead against the glass, he watched her entering the pharmacy. He frowned. Why was she going in there? He considered going over to the pharmacy and asking her, but then he noticed that he was smudging the glass and frowned. It would have to wait.

Elle sighed impatiently, rereading the instructions on the side of the pregnancy test box, and then checking her watch again. How long could a minute really take? It seemed like the second hand was moving far too slow. She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

She didn't even know yet if she was excited or terrified at the prospect of being pregnant. It was probably both. Was she ready for something like this? Could she be a mother? What if she did something wrong? What if…She wiped a tear from her cheek. What if everything turned out all right? she asked herself. Would it really be so bad if she _was_ pregnant? To have a family with Gabriel…she tried to imagine their child, a tiny little bundle with a mixture of each of their faces. The idea filled her with a surge of joy. She realized that she desperately wanted the test to be positive. Biting her lip, she checked her watch again. The minute was up.

She looked down at the test strip.

Gabriel heard the bell over the door ring. "Just a second!" he called, putting down the stack of boxes he was carrying. "Is there something I can help you with?" He came out from the back expecting a customer. When he saw Elle he stopped, surprised.

"Elle! Is everything okay? Why aren't you at the diner?"

She tugged at the hem of her sweater. "Um…can I talk to you for a minute?"

Gabriel glanced around the store. It was empty. Then he looked over at his boss, who nodded.

"Sure," he said. She led him outside and into the alley-like space beside the store, where they could have relative privacy.

"So what's going on, Elle?" Gabriel asked, concern making him impatient.

She twirled a few locks of hair in her fingers nervously.

"Um…" she said.

Gabriel scowled and took her by the shoulders. "Hey, are you okay?" he demanded. "You're kind of freaking me out."

"Sorry," she apologized. "I'm…everything's…fine. I just…" She took a deep breath.

"Gabriel, I'm pregnant."

It took a moment for the words to sink in.

"You're…"

His eyes widened. He suddenly found that he couldn't stand, and leaned against the outer wall of the store, sinking down to the ground.

Elle crouched next to him.

"Hey, Gabriel, you okay?" She squeezed his shoulder. "Talk to me."

He shook his head dumbly. "I…Elle, I can't be a father."

"Gabriel, don't be silly! Of course you can!"

His eyes were glazed over—he looked like he was in shock. "No, Elle, you…" He covered his eyes with one hand, and Elle realized he was trying not to cry. She sat down heavily.

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about it," she said despondently. She suddenly felt very tired.

Gabriel took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Elle, I didn't mean to…it's just, you know what I am."

"What you _were_," Elle said, her voice firm.

Gabriel laughed bitterly. "Am. Sylar is always going to be a part of me, no matter what I do. I can keep him inside, keep the hunger at bay…but it'll still always be there."

"But you're controlling it," Elle protested. "You're doing so well!"

Gabriel was silent. Elle felt her eyes welling up with tears but forced herself not to cry. "What do you want me to do?" she asked angrily. "I mean…Gabriel, I'm not getting an abortion, I don't care _what_ you say."

Gabriel suddenly hugged her. "Elle, God!" he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I didn't mean it like that.

Elle couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She tried to pull away and turn her head so Gabriel wouldn't be able to see her cry, but he took her face in his hands.

"Elle, please don't cry," he pleaded, wiping some of the tears away with his thumb. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Elle closed her eyes.

"Gabriel, I…thought you'd be happy. I wanted you to be happy!"

He leaned his forehead against hers, still holding her face in his hands.

"I want to be happy too," he said. "But…Elle, what if the baby is like me? What if it has to live with the hunger like I do?"

"Then we'll _deal_ with it! We'll teach it how to control the hunger like you do! Gabriel, we can _do _this, if we do it _together_! But I _need_ you, Gabriel, I can't do it alone!"

He took another deep, shaky breath, his eyes filled with fear. Then, gingerly, he placed his hand on her stomach.

"We're going to have a baby," he murmured.

Elle put her hands over his.

"We can do this," she said again.

"Do you really think so?" Gabriel asked.

This time it was Elle who reached out to take Gabriel's face in her hands.

"Yeah. I really do."

She smiled at him happily, and as she looked deeply into his eyes, very slowly, a smile spread across his face too.

"We're going to have a baby," he repeated, excitement leaking into his voice.

Elle laughed and pulled him in for a warm embrace.

"We can do this," she said, one more time. And as she felt Gabriel slip his trembling hand onto her stomach again, she knew that this time he believed her.


	10. Two Story Town

_And me, I'm just one story in a two story town,_

_But you're never gonna find me in the lost and found..._

_It's just the same old sights and the same old sounds._

_I want to take my car and drive out of this two story town._

_It's the same old ship going down._

_I'm going down, down, down, down, down..._

_It's just the same old sights and the same old sounds._

_I'm gonna take my horse and ride him off this merry-go-round._

_I won't give up, and I won't back down._

_Ain't going down, down, down, down, down..._

_Never going down, down, down, down, down..._

_In this two story town.  
_

* * *

Gabriel woke with a start, his heart pounding. He gasped, out of breath, and realized he was covered in sweat, as if he had just run a marathon. His entire body was shaking.

Elle stirred next to him, lifting her head from the pillow.

"Gabriel? Is something wrong?" She touched a gentle hand to his arm. "God, you're shaking! What happened?"

He closed his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. He concentrated on lowering his heart rate.

Elle was sitting up now, twining her arms around him and running her fingers through his hair. "Talk to me, sweetie," she said. Her voice had a calming effect.

"I…it was a dream."

"A nightmare?" she inquired, still combing his hair with her delicate fingers. "I didn't think you were the kind of person who had those."

He shook his head. "I've never…I mean…" He rubbed his eyes. "Elle, it felt so _real_."

She let her arms drop, and he immediately missed the sensation of her arms around him.

"That's not one of the powers you picked up, is it? Dreams about the future?"

Gabriel frowned. "No, I…wait. My mother. That's her power. I must have taken it from her without realizing it!"

Gabriel heard the rustling of covers as Elle shifted in bed, and her sharp intake of breath. He blinked, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness quicker, and reached out to put his hand on her swollen belly.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Fine," she assured him, but her voice was tight. "Just a sore back. Nothing to worry over."

"I have to worry, it's my job." He scooted closer to her, untangling his legs from the covers. "You just relax, I'll give you a back rub."

As he massaged her back and shoulders Elle sighed contentedly. "You've gotten good at that," she said.

"Lots of practice."

"Gabriel?"

"Mm?"

"What did you dream?"

He was quiet for a moment, and his hands faltered.

"It was Peter," Gabriel said.

The room was very quiet.

"What about Peter?" she asked. Her shoulders had suddenly gotten very tense.

Gabriel closed his eyes, replaying the dream in his mind. There was no mistaking it.

"He's going to be killed, Elle," he said softly.

She took in a ragged breath.

"You have to go."

Gabriel squeezed her shoulders.

"I can't leave you, Elle! Not _now_! You're nine months pregnant!"

"I'm not due for a few weeks yet," she said.

"But Elle—"

"Gabriel, I know you," Elle interrupted. "You _want_ to go. You have to! Gabriel, he's your brother."

Gabriel sighed. "I know. I just…I have a bad feeling, Elle. This is more than just Peter. Things are happening out there—dangerous things. I…" He shook his head. "I've never had anything to lose before," he finished lamely.

Elle clumsily turned around and took Gabriel's hands.

"You're not losing anything, silly," she said, injecting more confidence into her voice than she felt. "You'll go, you'll save your brother's life, and I'll be waiting right here when you get back, me and your son."

Gabriel leaned down to kiss her belly. "We still have to come up with a name for him," he pointed out.

Elle kissed the top of his head.

"When you come back," she said with a smile.

Gabriel slid out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans.

"I _will_ be back," he promised, just able to make out her face in the darkness. She was trying to look brave. Gabriel felt a surge of emotion wash over him and he knelt on the bed to kiss her passionately. Then, before he had the chance to change his mind, he left, closing the door behind him.

Elle sat in the darkness, the covers pulled tightly around herself, and tried very hard not to cry.

* * *

Peter winced, pain shooting up his back. For the hundredth time he found himself wishing that he still had his powers—if he did, he wouldn't have to worry about things like bruises or broken ribs that used to be so trivial to him. Pulling his jacked tighter around himself against the chill, he glanced over his shoulder before ducking into an alley.

He leaned against the cool brick wall and took a few deep breaths. He knew that he had to keep moving, couldn't afford to stop. But he needed a minute.

With his eyes closed, Peter didn't see the two men who casually stepped off the sidewalk and turned into the alley where he was resting. He did, however, hear the crunching of the broken glass under one of their boots.

He jumped away from the wall, adrenaline surging through his tired body.

"Don't run," one of them said in a bored voice. "You know we'll just catch up to you again."

If he was completely honest with himself, Peter wasn't sure if he could've run anyway. His legs were shaking with fatigue.

The bigger man stepped towards Peter, a condescending grin on his face.

"You've been a hard one to keep up with," he said. "Pretty resourceful, for someone with no powers."

Peter swallowed. "You don't have to do this," he said desperately, even though he knew it wouldn't make any difference. "My father—"

"Gave us orders," the smaller man finished. "Sorry, Petrelli, but he's the boss, and he says you've got to go."

They stepped closer, and Peter backed away, glancing around himself quickly. His heart sank. He had thought, when he first stepped into the alley, that it connected to another street, but now he realized that it was fenced in. There was a dumpster backed up against the chain-link fence, and Peter thought that he might be able to climb it—but not quickly enough. If the alley had been open he _might_ have been able to run fast enough to get out into a public area with other people where his father's goons wouldn't risk exposing themselves. But now he was trapped. He had made a fatal mistake, and he realized, with a sinking feeling, that he was about to pay for it.

The two men advanced on him, cracking their knuckles.

"Let's get this over with," the bigger one said.

Going for broke, Peter spun and dashed for the fence. He was still five feet away when he was grabbed from behind. He yelled, thrashing, as he was lifted off his feet. Then he was thrown forward, crashing into the dumpster. He tried to regain his footing, his head spinning. Then someone's hand closed around his throat and he was hoisted up into the air.

He struggled to breathe as the hand squeezed his throat in a vise-like grip, clawing uselessly at the goon's arms and trying to kick him in a tender spot. But he knew that it wouldn't work.

Then the hand was ripped away. Peter fell to the ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs. As he struggled to pull himself up Peter heard several heavy thuds and grunts of pain.

He managed to pick his head up off the ground. His jaw dropped.

"Peter, are you all right?"

He was too dumbfounded to reply. Standing at the entrance of the alley, both his arms outstretched as he held the two goons up against the wall with his telekinetic powers, was Sylar.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the taller of Peter's attackers demanded.

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"Quiet," he said. With a flick of his wrists he brought the two men crashing together. They fell to the ground in a heap. Sylar walked past them without a second glance, coming towards Peter.

His heart started to pound, and Peter pushed himself to his feet, stumbling backwards.

Sylar stopped, and a look of dismay flashed in the depths of his eyes. Peter recognized that look. He had seen it in the future, when Sylar had told him that he wasn't Sylar anymore. He was…

"Gabriel," Peter said softly. "You…you saved my life. Thank you."

All of the tension left Gabriel's body, and the hint of a smile crossed his face.

"Who were those guys," he asked, indicating the unconscious goons.

"Pinehearst assassins," Peter explained, rubbing his sore neck. He would have a hell of a bruise the next day, he was sure.

Gabriel frowned. "Pinehearst," he muttered.

"They're marines," Peter went on. "Dad…he's injecting them with powers. He perfected the formula, can give powers to anyone he wants. I tried to stop him—I shot him, but I didn't kill him, and he healed. And ever since he's been sending these goons after me. I've managed to keep a step ahead of them for the most part, but…well…" He shook his head. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Hey, what are you doing here anyway?" Peter asked. "I thought you were…you've been gone a while. I thought Dad had…"

"You thought he killed me?"

Peter shrugged. "I figured, if anyone could…"

Gabriel laughed—he _laughed_!

"I'm sure he would try, if he had any idea where I've been." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I, uh…I dreamed that you were in trouble, so I…"

Peter found himself wondering if the marines might have put him into some sort of coma—the man standing in front of him seemed so unreal. Gabriel actually looked embarrassed!

"Well I'm glad you're here," Peter said, trying to hide how confused he was. This new and different version of Sylar would take some getting used to. "And not just because of the whole saving my life thing. Without my powers there really isn't anything I can do against Pinehearst, but with you here—"

"Hang on a minute, Peter," Gabriel interrupted. "Look, I came because you're my brother and I can't just let you get killed—but I can't stay. I have a life now, Peter, and I have to be there to protect it."

Peter frowned. "Gabriel, you don't understand—Pinehearst has to be stopped. My father—_our_ father—has to be stopped! I've seen the future that he creates, and it's a horrible place!"

Gabriel was shaking his head. Peter stepped closer to him.

"Please, Gabriel," he pleaded. "You have to help."

"Peter…"

"This is going to affect you too," Peter said, starting to feel desperate. "_Please_!"

Gabriel looked away, biting his lip. Then he closed his eyes.

"All right," he said softly. "All right, I'll help."

Peter breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Gabriel."

Peter clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Besides," he said lightly. "You kind of have to help—if you don't, Dad'll just send more marines after me, and you'll just have to come save me all over again."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep an amused smile from flitting across his face.


	11. Blaze of Glory

_When you're brought into this world, they say you're born with sin..._

_Well, at least they gave me something I didn't have to steal or have to win._

_Well, they tell me that I'm wanted, yeah, I'm a wanted man._

_I'm a colt in your stable, I'm what Cain was to Abel,_

_Mister, catch me if you can._

_I'm going down in a blaze of glory._

_Take me now, but know the truth._

_I'm going out in a blaze of glory._

_Lord, I never drew first, but I drew first blood._

_I'm no one's son..._

_Call me young gun.  
_

* * *

Pinehearst was dark. There were no lights on, even though it was the middle of the night.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Gabriel muttered.

"Maybe no one's there," Peter offered.

"_He's_ there," Gabriel said darkly. "He's definitely there." He slid back down the hill he had been crouching on to stand up next to Peter.

"What's the plan?" Peter asked.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

Peter looked chagrined. "Right, I forgot, you've been gone a while." He scratched his head.

"I guess the first thing we have to do is destroy the formula. If there's no formula, then there won't be any more goons."

Gabriel frowned. "Peter…did it ever occur to you to use the formula on yourself?"

He could tell by the look on Peter's face that he had.

"It wouldn't be right," Peter sighed. "I…no. I've seen what that formula does to the world. I don't know if using it on myself would make a difference, but I can't take that chance."

Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets, overwhelmed for a second, wondering whether he would rather live without his powers, and without the hunger, than keep the powers that he knew he could use to protect Elle and his soon to be born son. But he pushed the question to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do any good to wonder about something he had no control over.

"He'll know we're there," Gabriel pointed out.

"You're right. But there're two of us."

"Divide and conquer, hm?"

Peter glanced at the dark building.

"I…" He cleared his throat.

Gabriel knew exactly what Peter didn't want to say.

"It only makes sense for you to take care of the formula while I go after Dad.

Peter grimaced. "I'm sorry, Gabriel, I wish I could be more help."

Gabriel put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder.

"It's okay, Pete," he said gently. Peter made a strange face.

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"Nothing, it's just…for a minute there, you sounded like Nathan."

Gabriel smiled, but then his face hardened.

"Okay," he said. "Let's get this over with."

The halls of the Pinehearst building were just as deserted as they had seemed from the outside, but it didn't fool Gabriel. He knew where he was going, and he knew what was waiting for him.

It had been a long time since Gabriel had experienced this feeling—his blood was boiling, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. His entire body was tingling, his muscles tensed and ready. He was filled with nervous energy. The feral part of him was rising to the surface, licking its lips in anticipation of the bloodshed it knew was to come. His reflex, after so many months, was to force the beast back down, to beat it into submission, but he knew that he was going to need the powers that it would five him. So he let it out, let it fill him up. He was frightened by how good it felt.

He turned the handle to Arthur's office door, and a few sparks of electricity coursed from his fingers into the metal.

From inside the room, he heard a voice.

"Come in, Gabriel."

There was no point in delay—Arthur already knew he was there. So, Gabriel stepped inside.

Arthur was standing with his back to the door, looking out the window.

"Well, well," Arthur said softly. "Gabriel, I was beginning to think you had vanished for good." He turned, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

"Would you care to tell me where you've been?"

Instead of answering, Gabriel let some of the furious energy raging inside of him course out into his hand, forming a crackling ball of electricity.

Arthur frowned. "Gabriel. You're not planning on challenging me, are you? Don't you want to wait for your brother? He's downstairs, but he should be here soon."

"This doesn't involve Peter," Gabriel said. "He's not a killer—I am."

Arthur chuckled.

"Do you really think you can kill me, Gabriel? Your own father?"

The door slammed shut. Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He felt Arthur's powers surge against him, trying to sweep him off his feet and slam him into the door. But Gabriel was prepared for that. He let himself be thrown backwards, let his back hit the door, let himself crumple to the ground. And as he fell, he felt Arthur relax, drop his guard for just a split second. That was when Gabriel struck.

He didn't bother throwing Arthur into anything because he knew that his father would only heal. Instead he grabbed Arthur with his mind, lifting him off his feet and holding him stationary.

Gabriel rose to his feet. Arthur laughed.

"That's a good trick," he admitted. "But I'm not one of your playthings."

Arthur lashed out at Gabriel with his powers.

Nothing happened.

"I'm stronger than you, Arthur," Gabriel growled.

Arthur's eyes were wide.

"That's not possible," he said.

"Maybe not before," Gabriel admitted. "Maybe I haven't always been—but I am now. Because not I have something to fight for. Something important."

"Gabriel, please," Arthur said quickly. "You don't want to _kill_ me! You were going to work for me, _with _me! You're my son, Gabriel!"

The beast enjoyed the sound of its prey begging for mercy.

"Gabriel, I'm your _father_!"

He felt a surge of emotion.

"You lost the right to call yourself my father when you sent assassins after my brother," he spat.

He let the ball of electricity surge out of his hand. Arthur winced.

The sparks flew past Arthur, striking the picture window. It shattered. Gabriel stretched out with his mind, still holding on to Arthur, and snatched a large shard before it could plummet to the ground.

He stepped closer to Arthur, bringing the glass up behind them.

"it shouldn't have had to come to this," Gabriel murmured, looking into his father's eyes. "We might have had a chance to be a normal family—it could have happened. But now…"

He reached out, grabbing the side of his father's face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered violently.

Then he drove the shard of glass into the back of Arthur's head.

His lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap, blood seeping onto the carpet.

Gabriel looked at him for a few moments, a war raging inside of him. Then, taking a deep, shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, bringing the image of Elle's bright smile to his mind. Slowly but surely, the beast receded, begrudgingly slinking back into its lair. Gabriel locked it away there, steeling his nerves against its return. It had served its purpose.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to reality. He didn't bother turning around as his brother ran into the room.

Peter skidded to a halt. He cleared his throat.

"Uh…Gabriel, you okay?"

He turned slightly to see Peter staring at his father's dead body with wide eyes.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Huh? Oh, I…yeah, I just…" He cleared his throat again. "Is he…dead for good?"

Gabriel looked down at the corpse.

"He can heal, so it might not be permanent. If that piece of glass comes out…" He shook his head. "But we can't take any chances." He studied the body for another moment.

"Can you go look and see if there's a letter opener or a sharp pen or something in his desk?"

Peter looked confused but did what Gabriel asked. After a minute of rifling through drawers he produced a steel letter opener.

"I don't know why, but the fact that he had one of those…it just seems kind of…normal."

Gabriel chuckled and knelt next to Arthur's body. Turning the dead man's head, he gripped the glass shard and yanked it out.

"What the hell are you doing?!?" Peter exclaimed. Instead of answering, Gabriel picked up the letter opener, and drove it into the hole where the glass had been.

"Um…is there something…special about the letter opener?"

"Yeah," Gabriel nodded. "It won't melt. At least not as easily." He shrugged, and then lit Arthur up with a shower of sparks. "This would work better if we had some fuel…" It took some doing, but eventually the body caught fire. After that the flames quickly spread, engulfing the office. Gabriel and Peter moved outside and watched as the whole building went up.

"Are you sure he's dead?" Peter asked. "I mean…are you positive?"

"Yes," Gabriel said confidently. "Yes, he's dead. And he's not coming back."

Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on the flames.

"I guess…that's it," he said softly.

Gabriel turned to look at him.

"Not quite."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"Hold out your arm."

Peter frowned, but complied. Gabriel put both of his hands on Peter's arm and gripped tightly. Then he closed his eyes.

It was a very strange feeling, giving something away as opposed to taking it, and the monster inside of Gabriel fought against him bitterly, but to no avail. When he was done, he opened his eyes. Peter's face was pale, and his arm was shaking.

"Peter?" Gabriel asked. "Are you okay?"

"I…what did you do?"

Gabriel smiled.

"I gave you your powers back."

Peter looked bewildered.

"You…what?" He looked down at his hands. "How?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I absorbed Arthur's powers to take people's powers, and so I took yours back from him—luckily it turned out to be a two way street. You just have to push the other way."

Peter's eyebrows knotted together as he digested what Gabriel was saying. Then a smile spread across his face. Experimentally, he lifted himself off the ground a few inches and hovered there as his smile became a grin.

"I…Gabriel! I know I've already said this about a million times, but…_thank you_!"

Gabriel laughed.

"Anytime, Pete."

* * *

_So yeah, I know that the creators said that Arthur can't actually give powers back to people, but...well, they also made Gabriel kill Elle, so...I figured I've already diverged enough, I might as well keep going! Plus, I really wanted to give Peter his powers back. Makes the whole story so much easier to write!_


	12. Who Says You Can't Go Home

_I spent twenty years trying to get out of this place,_

_I was looking for something I couldn't replace._

_I was running away from the only thing I've ever known._

_Like a blind dog without a bone,_

_I was a gypsy lost in the twilight zone._

_I hijacked a rainbow and crashed into a pot of gold._

_I've been there, done that,_

_I ain't looking back on the seeds I've sown._

_Saving dimes, spending too much time on the telephone..._

_Who says you can't go home?_

_There's only one place they call me one of their own._

_Just a hometown boy born a rolling stone._

_Who says you can't go home?_

_Who says you can't go back?_

_I been all around the world, and as a matter of fact,_

_There's only one place left I wanna go..._

_Who says you can't go home?

* * *

_Gabriel felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Arthur was gone—they were free! True, there was still Angela and the Company, but Gabriel wasn't afraid of them. They couldn't hurt him, or Elle…or their son. He felt a nervous pang, and suddenly longed to be at Elle's side. What if she had had the baby already? What if—God forbid—something had happened to her?

He cleared his throat.

"Pete? Look, I don't mean to be rude, but…I really have to get home."

Peter chuckled. "Oh, sorry! Hey, you never even told me where you've been hiding out—or what you've been doing out there, anyway? I can't exactly imagine you flipping burgers or the like."

Gabriel grinned. "No, I'm not flipping burgers. I doubt I'd be very good at it."

"Ah, throw a little telekinesis in there and you'd be fine."

They shared a good laugh. Then Gabriel sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's just this tiny little town, out in the middle of nowhere. I've been working at a hardware store. That in itself isn't exactly an exciting life, but…well…Pete, I'm married."

Peter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He stared at Gabriel, completely dumbfounded, for almost a full minute. Then he found his voice.

"M-m-married?"

"Yeah, I figured you'd react something like that."

"Who would—I mean, who did—_married_?"

Gabriel had to laugh at Peter's face.

"You remember Elle, right?"

Peter's eyes got even bigger.

"Elle. Elle, as in, Company girl Elle? The one with the electricity thing?"

"Yeah, that would be her."

"_Holy_—I mean—_wow_! Gabriel…congratulations!"

Gabriel rubbed his nose with one finger.

"That's, uh…actually not all."

Peter shook his head.

"Sorry to say it, Gabriel, but I don't think anything could surprise me more than you and Elle tying the knot."

"Elle is nine months pregnant."

There was a long silence.

"Okay," Peter said slowly. "I…was wrong."

He narrowed his eyes at Gabriel.

"If she's nine months pregnant, what the hell are you doing here? She might need you!"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

Peter blushed. "Oh. Right. Saving me. I remember now."

He cleared his throat.

"Say, Gabriel…how did you get here? Can you still fly?"

"No, I lost that power. I actually took a plane. I gotta say, after flying myself, commercial flights is…well, let's just face it, it sucks!"

Peter grinned. "Then why don't you let me fly you home? I mean, it's the least I can do after you saved my life like that."

Gabriel started to decline the offer on reflex, but then he realized that it might not be such a bad thing to have at least one person know where he and Elle were. True, they were trying to escape from their old lives, but Peter _was_ his brother…

"Sure," he said, nodding. "And, thanks."

* * *

Elle sighed and checked her reflection. Then she sighed again. Not a pretty sight. Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Not that she could expect anything better, considering the fact that she hadn't slept since Gabriel had left. True it had only been two days, but those two days had felt like two years after all the worrying she had gone through. It didn't exactly help that every time Doris looked at her with pity in her eyes, Elle was overwhelmed with the fear that Gabriel might not come back. But he _had_ to come back! He just had to!

She sighed and pulled her robe tighter around herself. She wasn't going to be able to fall asleep. She might as well take a walk.

One of the best things about being out in the middle of nowhere was the enormous number of stars in the sky. Elle had never seen so many in her life before they had come here—of course, before they had come here she had never had much occasion to look at the stars anyway. As she stared up into the night sky, trying to discern the few constellations that she knew, she thought she saw something moving. She squinted, trying to get a better look at it as it moved above her. It was too close for a satellite, and it wasn't bright enough to be a shooting star…then she realized that it wasn't passing overhead, it was getting closer. She barely had enough time to wonder what it was before Peter and Gabriel dropped out of the sky in front of her.

She staggered backwards, her breath caught in her throat.

"I—wha—_Gabriel_!"

He was at her side in a heartbeat, catching her before her knees could collapse.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. "Sorry I'm late."


	13. Runaway

_On the street where you live girls talk about their social lives._

_They're made of lipstick, plastic and paint, a touch of sable in their eyes._

_All your life, all you've asked is when's your Daddy gonna talk to you._

_You were living in another world, trying to get a message through._

_No one heard a single word you said._

_They should have seen it in your eyes,_

_What was going 'round your head..._

_Ooh, she's a little runaway._

_Daddy's girl learned fast, all those things he couldn't say._

_Ooh, she's a little runaway.

* * *

_Elle turned on the coffee machine and smiled as the light flashed. She didn't know why that little blinking light suddenly made her happy—it just did. Then she shuffled over to the booth where Peter and Gabriel were sitting and, after a little bit of effort, maneuvered herself down into the seat.

"It'll be a minute," she said. Gabriel leaned across the table and kissed her. Peter squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Elle laughed. "You okay, Peter?"

He shook his head, blushing. "I…it's just going to take some getting used to. The whole you guys being married thing."

"You can say that again," Gabriel murmured. "And Elle, are you _sure_ you're okay?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Yes, Gabriel, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself on my own for a few days."

"Brat," he said, scowling.

She tuck out her tongue at him.

Peter started to laugh. They both looked at him curiously.

"Sorry," he managed to say. "It's just—I don't know, you guys are just so…normal! I mean…"

They couldn't help but laugh.

"Weird, right?"

Then the coffee was ready. They were quiet for a few moments, staring into their coffee mugs.

"So Elle, when are you due?" Peter asked suddenly.

"Next week."

"And you…you're doing okay?"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Elle exclaimed. "Are all you Petrelli's complete worrywarts? I'm _fine_!"

Peter shrugged. "Uncle's job. I'm here to worry when the father's not allowed to. Have you guys decided on a name yet?"

Elle and Gabriel exchanged guilty looks.

"Uh…not exactly."

"You're kind of running out of time here."

"I know," Elle said, chewing on her lip. "But…how are you supposed to name someone you've never even met?"

"Good point," Peter said, leaning back. "But when Nathan's kids were born, they had a list of names prepared, and they picked one once the time came/"

"But what if none of the names on the list are right?"

Gabriel grinned. "Believe me, Pete, we've had this conversation about a thousand times already."

The door of the diner opened, and Doris stepped in.

"Elle, what are you doing in—Gabriel! You're home!"

Her face lit up with a broad smile. Then she saw Peter.

"Oh! I…hello!"

Gabriel slid out of the booth and stood. "Hi, Doris." He went to hug her, but she poked him in the ribs, hard.

"And just where, exactly, did you run off to, young man? Leaving your wife here, alone, nine months pregnant? What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Ow! Doris! I'm sorry! I didn't want to go, but…"

"It was my fault," Peter said, standing.

Doris raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you?" she asked, her voice suspicious.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "Doris, this is my brother, Peter."

Doris' eyes widened.

"Your…oh! Well, then, hello!"

She shook Peter's hand. "It's nice to meet you!" she said. "I didn't think I'd ever get to meet one of this lot's actual family!" Then she took a step backwards and put her hands on her hips.

"So," she said. "What was so urgent that you had to drag this man away from his very, very pregnant wife?"

Peter glanced at Gabriel nervously. "I…"

"He was in trouble," Gabriel explained, stepping in smoothly. "He needed my help."

Doris looked back and forth between them, her eyes narrowed. Then she shrugged. "Well, I guess if your brother is in trouble…" She nodded. "Okay. I guess I forgive you, Gabriel."

"Thanks, Doris." He kissed her on the cheek. She patted his shoulder fondly.

"Gabriel, dear, why don't you take your brother into the back and get him something to eat? You both look a little peckish."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Elle. She shrugged. Gabriel returned the gesture and beckoned Peter over.

"C'mon," he said. "I'll make you some waffles."

Elle noticed an odd look on Peter's face, almost like recognition, as he followed Gabriel into the kitchen.

Then she and Doris were alone.

Elle crossed her arms.

"I assume you wanted to talk to me about something?" she asked.

Doris smiled.

"You're a smart cookie, sweetie." She came over and sat down across from her.

"So," she said.

"So," Elle repeated.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Doris said, playing innocently with a salt shaker. "But didn't you once mention that the two of you were trying to escape from your families?"

Elle smiled. "Yes, I did. And we were—are. But Peter…he's one of the good guys. Believe me. He's always been a good guy. He…Doris, just understand…if there was any one person in Peter's family that I would trust to keep our secret safe, it's Peter. He would never do anything to hurt us."

Elle ran her finger around the lip of her coffee mug.

"I suppose, after everything you've done for us, I owe you an explanation."

She leaned back, one hand on her swollen belly.

"The whole story is far too long to go into right now…and there are some things that…Gabriel's family is…different. They've never exactly gotten along, even when it looked like they did, from the outside. And my father…" She sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. "I'm sorry, Doris, but…all I can tell you is that, if we hadn't run away, we never would have been able to be together. Gabriel's parents would have tried to turn us against each other—that is, after they used our relationship in any way they could. And our baby…that family is poison, Doris. They would have destroyed him, from the inside out."

Doris reached out and squeezed her hand.

"It's okay, sweetie," she murmured softly. "You don't have to tell me. Really. Sometimes it really is better to leave the past in the past."

"No, Doris, I owe you more of an explanation that that. I want to tell you more, I really do…and someday I will, I promise. But for now…let's just leave it at this: we had to run away. I'm glad that we did—because if we hadn't, we never would have found you."

Gabriel poked his head in from the kitchen.

"So what're you two talking about?"

"Nothing important," Doris said. She winked at Elle and then stood up, clapping her hands together. "Now—did you say something about waffles?"


	14. Rich Man Living In A Poor Man's House

_Billy works too hard, trying to make ends meet_

_He's gotta pay his credit cards._

_Yeah, he's been dealing with the odds that even Vegas can't beat._

_By six he's out of bed._

_She makes his coffee sweet._

_He grabs his boots and his coat, leaves a note that says "I love you,"_

_and runs to catch a bus down at the end of Market Street._

_It took some time to figure it out._

_He's a rich man living in a poor man's house._

_He might be down, but he ain't out._

_He's a rich man living in a poor man's house.

* * *

_Peter woke up and wondered if it had all been a dream. Then he looked around and smiled, realizing that it was real. He sat up, running his hand through his matted hair. He hadn't gotten all that good of a look at the room where Doris had said he could stay extremely early that morning before he fell asleep, strangely exhausted. The couch had been much more comfortable than he had expected. Now he could see that it was more of a storage room than anything—it was full of clutter and boxes of the sorts of things that most people didn't need but couldn't bear to get rid of. It reminded him of his own apartment. Untangling himself from the sheets, he stood and stretched. Then he noticed a note hanging on the door.

_Dear Peter,_ it said. _Good morning! We had to get up early to go to work, and I figured it would be best to let you sleep. _ _I hope the couch wasn't too uncomfortable—we didn't really have anywhere else to put you. If you need to take a shower, it's up the stairs and down the hall on the left—and if you'd like a change of clothes, help yourself to my closet, limited though it may be. I think we're around the same size. If you're hungry, head on over to the diner. I'm going to ask my boss if I can get off of work a little early, so I'll come find you as soon as I do. I hope you don't have too boring of a day._

It was signed, _Gabriel_.

Peter couldn't help but smile. He folded up the note, stuck it in his back pocket, and set out in search of the shower.

* * *

Elle saw Peter coming through the diner window and smiled, beaming.

"Morning, sleepy-head!" she called as he came in the door. "Or should I say afternoon? How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, thanks," Peter replied, sitting at the counter. He glanced at the clock and shook his head. "I guess I was really tired."

She laughed.

"Yeah, well, running for your life will do that to you."

Peter glanced around the diner nervously, but no one was paying attention to their conversation. He looked back at Elle and realized that she had poured him a cup of coffee.

"Hey, thanks."

"You're welcome…_brother_." She giggled. "Oh, Peter, you have no idea how much fun it is to say that! I never thought I would have a brother."

Before Peter could respond, a customer called to Elle and she went over to refill their coffee mug. She came back over, a hand on her back.

"I tell you, being pregnant makes this whole waitress thing a real pain in the you-know-what."

"Can't you take some time off?"

She waved a hand at him dismissively.

"Ah, I'm fine. Besides, Doris needs me here. She can't run this place alone."

Peter looked thoughtfully into his coffee mug.

"Well…what about when you have the baby? You'll have to take some time off then."

She nodded, sighing. "Yeah. I know. But that'll be different. I'll have a baby to look after. Now…well, what would I do all day? Watch TV? I just have to have something to do, and waitressing…" She shrugged. "I like it. I like interacting with people."

Peter nodded. "I think I know what you're talking about."

"Speaking of which," she said with a broad grin. "What can I get you, sir?"

* * *

When Gabriel got off work that evening, he and Peter ate dinner at a booth in the diner. Peter listened while Gabriel told him, in a low voice, everything that had happened since the last time they saw each other. Elle took a break and came over to sit with them, picking at Gabriel's food. He slapped her hand gently every time she did. Peter tried not to laugh, but couldn't help himself.

Then a man burst through the diner door, panting for breath.

"There's been a crash! On the highway! At least fifteen cars!"

"Is anyone hurt?" Gabriel asked, standing.

The man shook his head. "I don't know! It looks pretty bad! I called the police, but it'll take time for them to get here!"

Jim came out of the kitchen, tearing off his apron. "We'll come help! Gabriel, come on!"

Gabriel ran towards the door. Peter started to follow, but Gabriel turned.

"Pete, can you stay here and look after Elle?"

Elle scowled.

"I don't need anyone to look after me!" she exclaimed.

"Elle, please!" He looked at her pleadingly. She crossed her arms and looked away.

"Be careful," she murmured.

Gabriel smiled, and then ran after Jim.

Peter sat back down, fighting the urge to follow Gabriel. Elle's face was scrunched up, a mixture of anger and concern. Peter reached across the table and touched her hand.

"Hey," he said. "You know Gabriel will be fine. I mean, he can't die."

"I _know_!" Elle snapped. Then she deflated. "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry, I shouldn't snap at you. I know Gabriel can't be hurt…but I still…" She shook her head. "I can't help worrying. I just—"

She stopped abruptly, and her face blanched.

Peter frowned.

"Hey. Elle. Are you okay?"

She took a shuddering breath.

"I…I don't…"

She squeezed his hand.

"Peter…the baby…it's coming!"

* * *

Gabriel had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he ran towards the burning debris piled up in the off-ramp. There were people there already, tending to the wounded, helping them away from the wreckage. Gabriel heard screams coming from inside one of the burning cars. He ran towards it.

"Gabriel!" Jim called from behind him. "Wait! You'll get burned!"

But Gabriel didn't wait. He could make out the shapes of two small children. There was a woman near the car, trying to reach it through the flames.

"Please!" she screamed. "Someone help!" She met his eyes. "Save them!"

He leapt forward and grabbed at the car door, grimacing as the hot metal seared his skin. It was stuck. He could feel the flames licking at his body, and heard Jim screaming his name, but he ignored it. He kicked at the window, shattering it. Then he dropped to his knees and crawled inside.

One of the kids was unconscious, his forehead bleeding. The other was crying, tugging desperately at her seatbelt as the flames crept closer and closer. She saw Gabriel.

"Stuck!" she sobbed. "Bobby's sleepin!"

Gabriel coughed, smoke filling his lungs, and tried to undo her seatbelt. It wouldn't budge.

"It's going to be all right," he told her. "Close your eyes."

She did what she was told, too terrified to do anything else. Gabriel sent a shower of sparks at the seatbelt above her head and it snapped. Then he waved his hand at the window next to her, blowing it outwards.

"Go!" he coughed. She crawled away, slipping through the window frame. Gabriel heard the woman outside sob her daughter's name. He gasped, feeling the skin on his face starting to burn, and reached for the little boy.

Free from the car, Gabriel laid the unconscious boy on the pavement and stumbled away, hacking as he tried to clear the smoke out of his lungs. He fell to his knees, bracing his arms on the ground. Dimly he noticed that the burned skin on his hands was starting to heal.

Then Jim was there.

"Gabriel, are you all right? Hang on! The ambulance will be—"

Gabriel looked up and Jim's voice trailed off, his eyes wide.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

There was nothing Gabriel could do. Jim watched in stunned silence as his horrific burns melted away, replaced with clean, unblemished skin. Gabriel took several deep breaths of clean air.

"Jim…I…"

Jim shook his head.

"What…_are_ you?"

"I'm a person, like you," Gabriel said, feeling a flash of anger.

"I'm not impervious to fire."

"Jim…there are people who…can do things. Things that normal people can't do. It's hard to explain, but…healing, flying, telekinesis…they're all possible."

Jim shook his head.

"This is…I don't…"

Gabriel looked away. "I…Jim, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have lied to you. I…"

Doris ran up.

"Gabriel! It's Elle! The baby's coming!"

"WHAT?"

She panted, out of breath.

"Your brother said he's taking her to the hospital! Come on! I'll drive!"

Gabriel glanced nervously at Jim, but he didn't say anything. His mouth dry, Gabriel stood and ran after Doris.

* * *

Elle screamed, clutching at Peter's hand.

"You're doing great!" Peter told her, ignoring the fact that she was close to breaking the bones in his hand. She screamed again, and then slumped in her hospital bed, panting.

"I…I didn't think it would…hurt…this much," she gasped.

"What did you think it would feel like?"

She managed to smile.

"Okay, you got me there."

Peter picked up a cloth from the counter next to him and used it to wipe her sweaty brow.

"You're gonna be okay, Elle," he said. "You can do this."

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I can do this," she murmured. Then she squeezed his hand again.

"Peter, what if Gabriel—"

"He'll be here," Peter said confidently. "Doris said she would get him."

"But why isn't he here?" she pleaded.

"We flew here," Peter reminded her. "Gabriel will have to drive with Doris. Don't worry. They'll be here soon."

She clung to his hand.

"Peter…thank you…for being here."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"Uncle. It's my job, remember?"

There was a knock at the door. A nurse stuck her head in.

"You've got company," she said cheerfully. She stepped aside, and Gabriel rushed in.

"You're late," Elle gasped, as he knelt by her side. Peter stepped back to give him room.

"Sorry," he said breathlessly. "I got here as quick as I could."

Jim and Doris had followed him into the room.

"How did the two of you even get here?" Jim asked, frowning. "You don't have a car."

"Uh," Peter said. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. He's one too?"

Doris frowned.

"One what?"

"Nothing," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'll explain in a minute." Gabriel looked at him, confused, and Jim smiled.

"It's okay, Gabriel," he said. "I trust you."

Peter and Elle exchanged confused glances. Then Elle shuddered as another contraction racked her body.

Gabriel squeezed her hand.

"You're okay, baby," he murmured in her ear. "We can do this. I'm here."

She smiled wearily.

"I knew you would be."

At 2:32a.m. Elle gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He was small, with dark brown eyes and a tuft of light brown hair. Gabriel had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"He's perfect," Elle gasped, a tear of joy leaking out of the corner of her eye.

Gabriel smiled, touching his son's tiny hand.

"Now we just have to think of a name."

* * *

A very astute reader noticed that I had mistakenly used "Primatech" when I meant to use "Pinehearst." Whoops! Sorry, people! That was silly of me! I went back and tried to find and fix all of them. Also, as you can see, Elle did not die in childbirth...but in the future, keep the name of the story in mind.


	15. Story Of My Life

_Yesterday's a memory, another page in history._

_You sell yourself on hopes and dreams that leave you feeling sideways._

_Tripping over my own feet, trying to walk to my own beat._

_Another car out on the street, trying to find the highway..._

_Hey, are you going my way?_

_This is the story of my life,_

_And I write it every day._

_And no, it isn't black and white,_

_And it's anything but gray._

_I know that no, I'm not all right,_

_But I feel okay,_

_'cause anything can, everything can happen..._

_That's the story of my life.

* * *

  
_

"We have to give him a name," Elle said, for the hundredth time.

Gabriel laughed.

"Maybe if you say that again, he'll tell us his name himself."

She rolled her eyes.

"Ha, ha, you're so funny. You know, considering what I just went through, I think you should be a little nicer to me. Right, Peter?"

Peter shook his head, smiling.

"No way," he said. "I'm not taking sides here. I know better than that."

Gabriel sighed and ran a gentle finger along his sleeping son's face.

"God! How are you supposed to pick something this important? I mean, it's his _name_! What if he hates it?"

"As long as we don't call him something like Mortimer, I think we'll be all right," Elle said wryly.

"You don't have _any_ names that you like more than others?" Peter asked, leaning back in his chair.

Gabriel shook his head.

"To be honest, I've never really thought about that sort of thing. I mean…I never thought I would be having kids, you know?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. But…I mean, not _any_ names?"

There was something about the tone of Peter's voice that bothered Gabriel. He raised an eyebrow.

"Brother…can I speak to you outside for a moment?"

Peter looked guilty as he stood. Gabriel leaned over and kissed Elle on the forehead.

"Be back in a minute, hon. Maybe you should try and get some rest?"

"Mmm, not till we find this kid a name."

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Gabriel glared at Peter.

"All right," he demanded. "Out with it."

"Out with what?" Peter asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me, Pete. What do you know about my son?"

"I, uh…I don't…"

"Peter. Remember who you're talking to. I know your powers. You've been to the future. Have you met my son?"

Peter sighed and hung his head.

"How did you know?"

Gabriel smiled.

"Pete, you looked like you were being tortured! You know what my son's name is going to be, and it's killing you that we haven't come up with it yet!"

They shared a laugh.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Gabriel asked.

"Nope."

Gabriel shook his head. "You're really stubborn, you know that, Pete?"

Peter crossed his arms. "C'mon, Gabriel. You know what messing with the timeline can do."

"I don't think telling me my son's name will mean the end of the world."

"Yeah, I don't think so. I don't want to take any chances. Besides, if I tell you, you might just change your mind."

"But can't you just tell me? I mean, it couldn't hurt _that_ much!"

Peter laughed. "Is it really that hard to think of a name?"

"Honest to God, Pete, I'm drawing a complete blank. The funny part is, I can think of hundreds of names for girls."

He sighed and leaned against the wall, scratching his head.

"Will you at least tell me what he's like? How old was he when you met him?"

Peter frowned. "I don't know, actually. Maybe five? I'm not very good at figuring out how old kids are. But Gabriel, he was so…he looked like Elle. I mean, I didn't see it at the time, but now that I know who his mother is…he was adorable."

Gabriel smiled wistfully.

"I can't wait to watch him grow up. I…God, Peter! I'm a _dad_!"

Peter couldn't help it. He threw back his head and laughed.

"What now?" Gabriel asked.

Peter covered his face with his hand. "Nothing!" he choked out, his sides shaking as he tried to stop laughing. "It's just…Nathan said the _exact_ same thing when his first kid was born!"

Gabriel looked thoughtful.

"Hey, Pete…this is kind of random, but…I wonder which one of us is older?"

Peter frowned.

"Hey, I never thought of that. I have no idea! I don't remember mom being pregnant when I was a kid, but…I probably wouldn't have noticed as a baby."

"Huh. Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. So you're sure you're not going to tell me my son's name?"

Peter shoved him at the door.

"Get back in there and figure it out with your wife."

* * *

"What about Gabriel junior?"

"No. That's weird. My name isn't _that_ great. Besides, it's _my_ name. And what would we call him, Junior? That's kind of impersonal, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But at least I'm suggesting something!"

"Oh, shut up, you."

Elle stuck out her tongue. Gabriel sighed and rested his chin on his hands. He was quiet for a minute.

"Hey," Elle said softly. "What're you thinking about? You've got a weird look."

"I…this is going to sound really weird. I mean…it's kind of a stupid idea. A really stupid idea, actually."

"You wanna share this stupid idea with me, sweetie?"

The corners of his lips curled up into a small smile.

"I…what if we called him Noah?"

Elle's eyes widened.

"You mean like Noah Bennet? As in, the man who killed you? _That_ Noah?"

"Uh…yeah."

"_Why_ would you want to name our son after the man who _killed_ you?"

"Hear me out, hon. If it wasn't for him, we never would have started our new life together."

"You mean if it wasn't for him _killing you_."

"Yes, dear. But it's more than just that. I worked with him for a while, as his partner…and that was when I really started to see the way to keep the hunger at bay. And…well, if it wasn't for him, we never would have met in the first place."

Elle shook her head incredulously.

"I just…Gabriel, are you serious?"

"I am. Look, Elle…I did a lot of horrible things to Bennet, and his family. I guess…maybe…I thought…"

Elle reached out and touched his arm softly.

"I understand," she said, smiling. "I do. And…Noah's actually a really nice name. I kind of like it."

Gabriel leaned over and kissed her. "You are so sweet," he murmured.

Peter cleared his throat.

"Should I leave?" he asked wryly.

Elle laughed. "God, no. Please. I just had a child a few hours ago!"

"So Pete," Gabriel said. "What do you think? Is Noah a good name?"

Peter just smiled.

* * *

Gabriel smiled to himself as he watched Elle and Noah sleeping together, curled up on the hospital bed. They looked so perfect, almost too perfect to actually exist. He wondered why he wasn't tired himself. Even Peter had fallen asleep under his jacket in a chair in the corner. Gabriel checked the clock on the wall and chuckled. _Oh well_, he thought. _I guess it's not surprising that I can't sleep. It has been a pretty exciting day._

Peter stirred and lifted up his head.

"What time's it?" he mumbled.

"About three in the morning."

He rubbed his eyes.

"Jeez, Gabriel, why are you still up?"

"I…I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Gabriel sighed.

"Peter…I know there's something you're not telling me, about what you saw in the future. I couldn't help but pick up on some of it."

Peter was quiet for a moment.

"Do you want to go out in the hall?" he said quietly. "We don't want to wake them." He nodded at Elle and Noah.

The hospital was quiet. There were a few nurses at the other end of the hall, but no one else.

"How much do you know?" Peter asked.

"Nothing specific. Just…a bad feeling."

Peter bit his lip.

"I…I probably shouldn't tell you anything. I mean, it probably won't turn out that way…things have changed since I went to the future. _I've_ changed. But…"

"But?"

Peter looked at him for a minute. Then he sighed.

"Noah died, Gabriel. He was killed. It was an accident, really…you were fighting someone, and…" He shook his head. "You lost it, Gabriel. You went nuclear. Thousands of people died."

Gabriel sat down heavily, his eyes wide.

"I…"

Peter crouched at his side.

"Gabriel, come on. You know that the future isn't set. That whole world was…wrong. Things were bad. _Really_ bad. It was Dad's formula…it screwed everything up. I don't think things will turn out that way now."

Gabriel looked up at him.

"Was…was Elle there? I mean…d-did I…kill her?"

Peter ran a hand through his short hair.

"I don't know. I didn't see her, Gabriel. But that doesn't mean…she could have been anywhere."

Gabriel rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I…thanks for telling me, Peter. You're probably right…things probably won't turn out that way. But…now that I know…"

"We can stay on our toes," Peter said with a smile. "And if things start to head in that direction…"

"We'll stop it," Gabriel said determinedly. "There's no way in hell I'm letting anything happen to my family, Pete. _No way_."

Peter nodded.

"Sounds like a plan to me."


	16. Just Older

...yeah. Hi. *hangs head in shame.* I, uh...should have updated this forever ago. I'd like to say that it's not my fault, that it's my senior year in college and I'm busy writing my thesis, working on grad school applications, learning two languages, studying for the GRE, and studying for my Jeopardy! audition, but the reality is that I'm a bad person and I completely disregarded all of you people who have been so supportive. I'm incredibly sorry, and I promise that I'll try to be better from now on. I WILL finish this story. I will NOT leave you hanging. You just might have to bear with me every once in a while. And, if I drop off the face of the earth again, go ahead and send me angry messages--it will inspire me! haha, no, but seriously, I really am sorry. I hope the chapter is worth the wait.

* * *

_It's good to see your face, you ain't no worse for wear,_

_Breathing that California air._

_When we took on the world, we were young and brave._

_We've got secrets that we'll take to the grave._

_Standing here, shoulder to shoulder..._

_I like the bed I'm sleeping in._

_Just like me, it's broken in._

_It's not old...just older._

_Like a favorite pair of torn blue jeans,_

_The skin I'm in is all right with me,_

_It's not old..._

_Just older._

_I'm not old enough to sing the blues,_

_But I've worn the holes in the soles of these shoes._

_You can roll the dice till they call your bluff,_

_But you can't win..._

_Until you're not afraid to lose.

* * *

_

There are things that people say all the time, sayings that people repeat, even though most have no real understanding of what they actually mean. Gabriel had been one of those people, once. He remembered uttering words like "good things come to those who wait, and "time flies when you're having fun," but he had never really known what they meant…until now.

Every night when as he looked down at his sleeping son, at his perfect little face, it felt as though it was just yesterday that Noah had come into the world. Days felt like minutes, and weeks flew by in a flash, as if someone had flipped their lives into fast forward. Noah was growing right before their eyes, bigger and stronger every day. The first time Noah looked up at him with his big, loving eyes and said "Dada," Gabriel's heart nearly burst. He had never been happier in his life. He had a beautiful wife, a healthy son…he had everything he had ever dreamed of having…and more. Doris and Jim were there, guiding the new parents every step of the way, giving them advice and the occasional break from parenting, so they could catch up on much needed sleep. And then there was Peter. With his background as a nurse and his experience as an uncle, Peter was like a godsend. A week after Noah had been born, Peter had regrettably flown back to New York. He had a life to rebuild, now that he no longer had killers on his trail. Though Gabriel had been sad to see his brother go, he understood.

"I'll come back," Peter had promised. "I'll come visit. I want to watch my nephew grow up."

Peter was true to his word. He came regularly to check up on the growing family. After a few weeks passed people got used to the sight of him dropping out of the sky. Ever since his powers had been revealed the night of Noah's birth, Gabriel had been amazed at how readily the townspeople accepted him. He and Elle weren't _different_—they were _special_. People smiled gratefully at them as they walked down the street, and children eagerly begged them to show them a trick. Gabriel overheard Doris refer to them as "the town's own local superheroes." It made Gabriel think of brightly colored spandex and capes, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Then, one day, before Gabriel was even remotely prepared for it, Noah's first birthday arrived.

Peter showed up just before the party was scheduled to start, a brightly wrapped package tucked beneath his arm.

"Hey, brother," he said cheerfully. "How's the little man?"

Gabriel grinned and gave Peter a hug.

"He's just fine."

"He say anything new since last time?"

"Nope," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "Just more of the same "Dada's," "Mama's" and "cookies." Not that I'm complaining. Those suit me just fine."

Peter smiled as they walked to the diner, swiping damp hair out of his eyes. A light rain had picked up, more of mist than anything else, but flying through it Peter had gotten thoroughly soaked.

"So what's in the box?" Gabriel asked.

"Mm-mm," Peter said, grinning. "You're going to have to wait and see. That's the whole point of wrapping them, you know."

As soon as they stepped through the diner door, Elle was there to wrap Peter up in a warm hug.

"Peter, I'm so glad you're here!"

"What, did you think I wouldn't show?" Peter teased.

"No, of course not," Elle said defensively. "It's just, now that you're here, it really feels like a celebration."

Peter smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Where is the birthday boy?" he asked, looking around.

"He just woke up from his nap a little while ago," Elle said, smiling. "He's in the back with Doris. I'll go get him. I know he's looking forward to seeing you."

Peter chuckled. "Do you really think he even recognizes me?"

"Of course he does!" Elle said adamantly. "I'll prove it to you."

She disappeared into the back for a moment, and then returned with the birthday boy in her arms. He had his head resting on his mother's shoulder and was sucking on his thumb distractedly, but the moment he saw Peter his eyes lit up and he started to squirm, making happy cooing noises.

Peter laughed.

"Okay, you've made your point," he said happily, crossing the room to tickle his nephew.

Doris poked her head in from the kitchen.

"Oh! Peter, you're here! Great! Let's get this party started!"

* * *

Gabriel had never seen a one-year old eat cake, but it was a sight he would remember for the rest of his life. Peter's present turned out to be clothing, something that Gabriel and Elle desperately needed more of. Growing children had the tendency to go through clothes like tissues.

With the party in full swing, Gabriel found a moment to pull Peter over to the side of the room.

"This probably isn't the most appropriate occasion to ask," he said, his voice hushed. "But you haven't done any painting lately, have you?"

Peter frowned, glancing around. "No. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason…it's just…I dunno. A bad feeling, I guess. Something's just been bothering me lately, and I can't put my finger on it."

Peter ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair.

"I haven't painted anything for a while, but…if you want, I could always try. I mean, it's not that hard to get it started. But then you know that."

Gabriel bit his lip. "I don't know. I feel like I'm being paranoid. I mean, things are so…perfect." He sighed. "I guess there's just a part of me that's convinced that things can't stay this good for much longer. Something's bound to go wrong."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Peter said adamantly. "We agreed on that already, remember? Nothing is going to tear this family apart." He gripped Gabriel's shoulder tightly.

"_Nothing_."

He smiled confidently and Gabriel felt reassured.

"Gabriel, come here!" Elle cried, her voice bursting with excitement. "Quick!"

Gabriel and Peter rushed over to see what was going on.

"What, what is it?" Gabriel asked breathlessly.

"Look!"

She pointed at Noah, who was standing on his wobbly legs, his pudgy face screwed up in concentration. Then, determinedly, he took a step forward. And another. And another.

He only made it a handful of steps before he toppled over, hitting the ground with a tiny thud. Elle swept him up in her arms, giggling happily. Gabriel laughed and kissed his son on the top of his head.

"That's my boy," he said proudly. Then he kissed his wife.

He smiled, looking into her bright blue eyes.

"This is a perfect day," he murmured.

* * *

Noah was very tired that night when Elle put him to bed.

"Is he asleep?"

Elle jumped. "Peter, you sacred the crap out of me!" she whispered, pressing one hand over her beating heart.

"Sorry," Peter whispered back.

"That's okay, I forgive you," she said, smiling. "And yes, he's sleeping like a rock."

Peter nodded. "Elle…" he said slowly. "Are you…okay?"

She frowned. "Of course I am, Pete. What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You just…didn't seem like yourself today."

She chuckled and reached up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. "I'm just a little tired, Pete, she said reassuringly. "You would be too, if you had a one-year old."

Peter smiled. "Yeah. But that wasn't…I mean…you just…_look_ a little different. I can't put my finger on it. You…you're not wearing a different kind of makeup, are you?"

Elle made an incredulous face. "Okay, Pete, now you're just babbling." She patted his shoulder gently. "I'm _fine_. Sounds like you're the one who needs some rest."

* * *

_There was a crunch, a thud, a horrible noise that shook Peter to his very core. He didn't know what had happened, but he was still filled with a feeling of dread._

_When he looked over, he still wasn't sure what had happened. Gabriel was on the floor next to the fragments that were all that was left of the dining room table. He had a stunned look on his face, his jaw slack. He reached over to the pile of wood, his hand shaking._

_Then Peter saw Noah._

_He wasn't moving. His little body was still…too still. Gabriel reached out and touched his son's face with a trembling finger. Then he pulled Noah into his lap, shaking him gently, trying to wake him up. Peter felt his heart stop, because he knew that Noah wouldn't wake up._

_Gabriel laid his son's broken body down on the floor gently. Then he looked up at Knox, his face clouded, and Peter realized that he was no longer looking at Gabriel._

_He was looking at Sylar._

_As Gabriel stood, moving towards Knox, Peter saw that he was starting to glow. He felt a knot of fear forming in the pit of his stomach. Gabriel was gone—Sylar was all that was left—and Sylar didn't care about keeping his powers under control._

_He was screaming as he pummeled Knox, his fists white hot. The light grew brighter and brighter, the room filling with heat. Knox fell, unconscious, his face bloodied. Gabriel stepped back, gasping for breath._

"_THEY KILLED HIM!" he howled, his voice breaking. Peter could barely see him any more, the light was so bright._

_Out of the corner of his eye Peter saw Claire struggle to her feet, a look of rage on her face. But he didn't care._

"_GABRIEL!" he cried, rushing towards his brother._

_Claire lifted a gun, her finger on the trigger._

_Gabriel screamed._

_Peter's hand touched his brother's shoulder._

_And then the world exploded around them in a flash of heat and pain.

* * *

_

Peter woke, gasping in the darkness. His heart was pounding rapidly. He rubbed his eyes, the imprint of that deadly blast imprinted on his retinas. His entire body was shaking. He sat up, resting his head in his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

As he sat there, his body aching with the ghost of burns that had never even been there, he felt a sense of foreboding weighing down on him in the dark.


	17. You Can Sleep While I Dream

_Young boy sits down to write a song, 'cause he thinks he's got something to say._

_Innocence thinks it can change the world, but the world keeps getting in the way._

_It's a small list for the optimist who believes that he can fly,_

_In a long line full of pessimists, to stop him every time he tries._

_Some people see things as they are and ask, "why?"_

_I dream of things that never were._

_ I take my shot,_

_And say, "why not?"_

_Hey, hey, hey, this one's for the dreamers._

_Hey, hey, hey, doubting disbelievers,_

_Get out of my way!_

_I bend, but I ain't breaking,_

_Scared, but I ain't shaking,_

_Baby, you can sleep while I dream._

_Hey, hey, hey, this one's for the breathing._

_Hey, hey, hey, the dying and the bleeding._

_Get out of my way!_

_I may whisper but I'm screaming,_

_I've got angels, I've got demons,_

_Baby, you can sleep while I dream.

* * *

_

New York always seemed just a little cold, almost impersonal, when Peter came back from visiting Gabriel and his family. Something about the tall buildings, about the way people rushed through their day without bothering to look around or appreciate the little things…it was such a stark contrast to the quiet life the Grays were leading, the life that Peter had come to enjoy. But today, as he walked down the sidewalk, it was worse than usual. His mind was in a haze, and every step felt as though he was dragging his feet through sand. All he could hear was the sound of Gabriel's heartbroken cries of agony and rage…all he could see was the blinding flash of deadly fire. He bumped into people as he walked, stumbling along, but he didn't care. He barely even noticed.

There was a part of him that felt wrong for leaving the Grays the way he had…but that dream had shaken him to his core. Somehow it had been even worse than actually living it had been, now that he had such a strong connection to Gabriel and his son. So, without saying a word, Peter had slipped out of the house and flown away into the night.

He didn't know how he made it to his apartment in the midst of the fog that blanketed his mind, but somehow he found himself standing in front of his door, keys in hand.

In the noisy street Peter had been unable to hear himself think, but in the quiet of his apartment he felt stifled. The silence was just too much—he could hear too many thoughts, imagine too many horrible things…he found himself wishing that he had some music to play, anything to distract him. But there was nothing he could do about it now. Steeling himself, he unwrapped the paints and the paintbrush that he had bought from a small store a few blocks from his apartment and laid them out next to the brand new blank canvas. Then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He wasn't sure how many hours passed between the time he picked up the paintbrush and the time that it fell from his tired hand, but the room was suddenly filled with sunlight that hurt his eyes. He blinked and tried to move. He bit his lip as the stiff muscles in his back sent a spike of pain through him.

"What did you paint?"

Peter jumped, falling out of his chair.

"HOLY SH—_GABRIEL?"_

Gabriel smiled apologetically from across the room, where he was leaning casually against the wall.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

Peter cracked his sore muscles, wincing.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, standing slowly.

"About an hour."

Peter frowned.

"When we saw that you were gone, I realized that something must have happened. I guessed that you must have come back here." He nodded at the canvas. "So, what did you paint?"

Peter looked at the canvas and felt his blood run cold.

"I…Gabriel, you're not going to like this."

Gabriel frowned, his eyebrows knotting together, and walked across the room towards Peter, who took a step back so that his brother could get a good look at the painting.

Gabriel's eyes widened.

"I…oh."

The painting was rushed, sloppy, maybe because of the urgency Peter had felt while painting it, but the subject was still clear. It looked like Gabriel, but Peter realized that it was actually Sylar…Sylar, with his eyes like coal, full of hatred and vengeance and pain. His arms were outstretched, his palms facing forward in a gesture of peace and prayer…but the gesture had been twisted into a mockery of what it should have portrayed, thanks to the garish red blood smeared all over Sylar's body, dripping to the ground in massive puddles of death.

Gabriel sat down heavily, his head in his hands.

"So that's it, then?" he said in a resigned voice. "There's nothing I can do, no way I can stop him from coming back?"

Peter grabbed the canvas and threw it across the apartment where it landed noisily on the floor.

"That's bull and you know it, Gabriel," he said vehemently. "That future isn't set in stone. We've changed the future before!"

"Not often," Gabriel remarked dryly.

"Sure we have!" Peter protested.

"When?" Gabriel asked, his voice hoarse.

Peter sat down next to his brother.

"When I saved Claire from…"

"From me," Gabriel finished bitterly.

"No, from _Sylar_," Peter corrected in a gentle tone.

"All right, fine," Gabriel conceded. "But think about it, Peter. Those paintings almost always come true. Maybe not in the same way you thought they would, but…they come true."

"New York wasn't destroyed," Peter reminded him. "That one didn't come true at all. The painting showed me exploding in the middle of the city, destroying everything. And it didn't happen!"

"You _did_ explode."

"But not in New York! _Over_ New York. And that's not what the painting showed—because we _changed_ it. And we're going to change _this_!"

"Do you really believe that?" Gabriel asked.

"I do," Peter said, nodding. "That's what these paintings are for. At least that's what I think they're for. They're warnings, so that we can try and change the outcome."

Gabriel sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"All right," Peter said. "So now we just have to figure out how to change it."

They sat next to each other on the floor in silence for several minutes.

"You never told me why you left in the middle of the night like that, Gabriel remembered suddenly.

Peter shrugged. "It was just a dream," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

"_Just_ a dream that sent you racing away in the middle of the night without a word? Please, Pete. I'm a little smarter than that."

Peter smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Then, with a heavy sigh, he told Gabriel all about his dream.

"It was exactly like it was when I was in the future, only…this time…" He shook his head. "It was just so vivid."

Gabriel scratched his head wearily. "So I guess that means that even by eliminating Arthur, we haven't been able to change the future."

"I guess Pinehearst wasn't the catalyst," Peter agreed. "So then, what…"

Then it hit him.

"Oh, my God," he whispered.

"What, what is it?" Gabriel asked. "Pete?"

"I think…" Peter said, shaking his head. "I think I know what it is that we have to fix."

"What?" Gabriel asked, impatience leaking into his voice.

"Gabriel…I think it's Claire."

Gabriel shook his head.

"Pete, I don't understand."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I think that maybe Claire is the reason behind this. She was so different from the Claire I know, Gabriel…she was so filled with anger, with hate…"

"Because of me," Gabriel said, looking away.

"Enough!" Peter said angrily. "Gabriel, I've just about had it with you beating yourself up like this all the time! I get it, you did bad things, but you _stopped_ doing them, and so you should STOP thinking of yourself as that bad person! Now! Or I swear to God, I'll break your nose!"

Gabriel stared at him with wide eyes, his jaw hanging open. Then, slowly, he started to laugh. And Peter couldn't help but laugh with him.

Gabriel wiped some tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, Pete, I really needed that!"

"Any time," Peter said cheerfully.

Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder.

"So. I guess we've got to go talk to Claire."

Peter nodded.

"But…Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe…you should let me talk to her first…you know, alone. I don't know how well she would react to the two of us showing up on her doorstep together."

Gabriel thought that over for a minute.

"You know, brother…I think you may have a point."


	18. River Runs Dry

_I didn't want to say it in this way,_

_I didn't want to see the day I'd say these words to you._

_I didn't want to have to explain,_

_Sometimes heroes have to lose._

_It's killing me to see you cry._

_Would it make it any better if I told you I did it all for you?_

_It was just another roll of the dice,_

_Just another star in the sky;_

_Tried to touch it, but I couldn't fly…_

_Everybody knows the promise of the river._

_Everybody goes with the fire in their eyes._

_Everybody knows you can lead a horse to water._

_But there's nothing anybody can do._

_Rivers run dry._

_

* * *

_

Peter grumbled to himself as he walked up to the front door of the Bennet house, running his fingers through his windswept hair in an attempt to tame it. He had gotten so used to having his powers out in the open around Elle and Gabriel and all their friends that it felt strange to have to keep out of sight. He had been forced to fly several blocks past the house before he found a place to land out of sight, and then had to try and navigate his way back through an unfamiliar neighborhood. Worst of all was that throughout the entire trip his stomach had been twisted up into knots because of what was waiting for him on the other side of that regular looking door. He was looking forward to seeing Claire again, of course…but he was _not_ looking forward to how she was going to react to what he had to tell her. But there was nothing he could do—he _had_ to tell her. He had to get her to understand, somehow…to understand, and to forgive Gabriel for all the things that Sylar had done in the past. If he didn't…Peter knew, deep down in his heart, that the only way to avoid the horrible future he had witnessed was to get Claire to forgive and forget.

Peter took a deep breath before he rang the doorbell. As he stood there, waiting, he tried yet again to come up with the right words, the ones that would show Claire just how much Gabriel had changed. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps from inside the house.

The door flew open.

"Peter!" Claire exclaimed, her face lighting up with that sunny smile. "Hey!" She threw her arms around him, laughing.

"Hey, Claire!" Peter replied, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"What're you doing here?" Claire asked, stepping aside to let him through the door. "You're not looking for my Dad, are you?"

"Uh, no. Actually, I'm here to see you."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Uh oh. I'm not in trouble, am I?" she teased, grinning.

Peter chuckled. "No. But I needed to talk to you."

"Ooh, sounds serious. Well hey, come on into the kitchen—do you want something to drink?"

"Uh," Peter stammered, trying to stop her. But Claire had already strolled into the kitchen and was pouring a glass of orange juice. Peter accepted it with a nod of thanks and downed it in one swallow. His throat was extremely dry all of a sudden.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Claire asked, leaning against the counter.

Peter cleared his throat. "Um…you may actually want to sit down, Claire. It's…kind of serious."

Claire frowned, but did as Peter asked. Peter sat down next to her, fiddling nervously with his empty glass. Then he sighed.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I guess I'll just up and get it over with. Claire, I'm here about Gabriel."

Claire tilted her head to the side, a confused look on her face.

"Who's Gabriel, Peter?"

Peter rubbed the tip of his nose and cleared his throat. "Uh…he used to call himself Sylar."

Claire's jaw tightened and she looked away.

"What about him?" she asked, her voice steely. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Peter winced. "Um…here's the thing, Claire," he said softly. "He's actually not."

She nodded, biting her lower lip. Then she smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "You came here to warn me, didn't you?" she said. "That's really sweet of you, Peter."

Peter sighed. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" he muttered under his breath. "Claire," he said, looking her in the eye. "That's not actually why I'm here. It's hard to explain, but…the Sylar that you know…doesn't exist anymore. Gabriel—that's his name, his real name—he's changed, Claire. He's a good person now. He has a wife, a child—he uses his powers to protect the people he loves now."

Claire pulled her hand away, her eyebrows knitting together as her features twisted into an expression of pure disgust.

"Peter—is this some kind of sick joke? Because it is _not_ funny!"

"It's not a joke, Claire," Peter said. "I'm serious."

Claire shoved away from the table, shaking her head in disbelief. "Peter—you don't actually expect me to _believe_ that _Sylar_ has a _family_? Sylar! We're talking about Sylar here! Sylar, the sadistic, psychopathic serial killer who tormented me and my family for _years_, who cut open my _head_ so he could steal my power? _That_ Sylar?"

"I understand why you're upset, Claire, and that's why I came to talk to you instead of him. He wanted to come and see you himself, but I convinced him not to."

Claire's face drained of color.

"Peter, what the _hell_ are you talking about? You're talking to him? After all the horrible things he's done? If he had come here—I would have cut his throat! And I would have expected you to do the same!" Her voice was getting higher and higher as she spoke, and her eyes were flashing with barely contained fury.

"Claire, please, calm down," Peter said, reaching out to take her hand. She stepped out of his reach.

"I will _not_ calm down!" she hissed. "Peter!"

Peter sighed. "I know you're upset, Peter, and you have every reason to be…but there's more. You probably don't want to hear it and you definitely won't like it…but I have to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Claire demanded, crossing her arms.

"Claire…Gabriel is my brother. He's Nathan's brother." He paused for a moment and saw the realization in her eyes.

"He's your uncle, Claire."

She stood silently for a moment, her jaw hanging open. Then she spun around and dashed down the hall, her hand clenched tightly over her mouth.

Peter rushed after her. She slammed the bathroom door in his face, and standing in the hallway he could hear the sound of her retching. He returned to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Then he knocked on the bathroom door.

"Claire?" he asked softly. "Are you okay?"

He heard her cough, the sound muffled. Then the bathroom door opened.

"Okay?" Claire spat, her face gray. "You just told me that the man who's been trying to murder me for years is not only a _good person_ but my _uncle_. And you expect me to be _okay_?"

Peter handed her the glass of water. "No, I don't. But Claire…you need to understand."

"Understand what?" Claire asked viciously as she rinsed out her mouth.

"Claire…I visited the future not too long ago…and it was bad. Things were really, really bad. But worst of all…you were a different person, Claire. You had changed. You were…cruel. Vicious. Bloodthirsty. You killed the future me without a second thought, shot him in cold blood, with no warning…and you would have killed me too, if I hadn't gotten away. Claire…you used Gabriel's son to get to him, and to get to me, threatened to murder him—a little boy, Claire—if I tried to resist. I don't want you to become that person. So I came here to try to explain things to you, to try and help you past what Gabriel was, so that you can see what he's become."

Claire scowled. "And you expect me to just forgive him? After everything he's done to me, to my family?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Peter said. "But you have to believe me. If you could see him now, Claire, if you could see the way he is with his family, his son…you wouldn't even recognize him!"

Claire was shaking her head in disbelief. "Peter…I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"I know. But Claire…you have to listen."

"NO!" Claire shouted, throwing the empty glass onto the floor where it shattered into a million pieces. "Peter, this is insane! I can't believe that you would come here and say this to me!"

"Claire—"

"No! Get out, Peter! Get out of here, right now!"

Peter wanted to protest, but there was a finality in Claire's voice that convinced him that nothing he could say would make a difference. He sighed.

"All right, I'll go," he said, resigned. "But I'll be back, Claire. I'm not going to leave this alone. It's too important."

Claire glared at him, her eyes boiling.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

Elle closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall wearily, trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her sore shoulders, but it didn't do much to alleviate the deep ache in her back and midsection.

Doris poked her head into the back room.

"Elle? Sweetie, your tables are waiting—hon, are you okay?"

It took quite a bit of effort for Elle to force her eyes open.

"Oh, Doris…I'll be right out. I'm just a little tired."

"Lies," Doris said crossly. "Elle, you look like death warmed over. No, strike that—you look like death lukewarm. Do you have a fever?"

"No, Doris, really, I'm just tired. Baby and all—I haven't been sleeping that well lately."

Doris put her hands on her hips and looked down her nose at Elle crossly. "Your little boy is well past the age where you wouldn't be able to sleep through the night if you wanted to. Don't try to put this off on the little angel."

Elle shrugged. "Okay, maybe I'm a little sore too. But really, I'll be all right. I just need to get a good night's sleep."

Doris clucked her tongue in concern.

"Maybe so…but you've been telling me that for a few weeks now. You haven't been eating much either. Elle, I know you like to be all tough, you and that Superman husband of yours, but you really should go see a doctor, get yourself checked out. I'm sure you're right, you just need a little rest, but…it would still make me feel so much better. So would you please just have the doctor take a look at you? I'll even give you the rest of the day off if you go right now."

Elle smiled.

"Okay, Doris. For you."

* * *

Peter knocked on the door, feeling grim. He had given Claire a few days to digest what he had told her, but he felt an urgency pressing on him now. So, he knocked.

It took much longer this time for anyone to answer his knock.

"Can I help you?" the middle-aged woman who finally opened the door asked.

"Uh," Peter said. "Is…is Claire there?"

"Maybe," the woman said. "Depends who's asking?"

Peter cleared his throat. "You must be Mrs. Bennet. My name is Peter Petrelli, I'm…a friend of Claire's."

"Oh, I've heard about you, Mr. Petrelli," Sandra Bennet said stiffly. "And I've heard about the reason why you're here. Claire doesn't want to talk to you right now. Or ever, for that matter. So if that's all—"

Peter grimaced. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bennet, but this is too important." Then he pushed past her and stepped inside the house.

"Wh-hey!" she exclaimed angrily as he walked towards Claire's room. "Just what in the world do you think you're doing? Get out of my house right this instant!"

"CLAIRE!" Peter called, ignoring the angry woman on his tail. "Claire, I need to talk to you!"

When Claire appeared at the top of the stairs Peter was struck with how much she resembled her mother when she was furious, even though they weren't actually related. Stuck between two women seething with anger, he suddenly felt very unsafe. But there was nothing he could do about it now—so he swallowed hard and steeled himself.

"I'm not leaving this time, Claire," he said firmly. "Not until you understand."

"You're starting to sound like a broken record," Claire hissed. "You'd better go, Peter. Because I know where my dad keeps his gun, and I am _not_ afraid to use it."

"You can't kill me," Peter reminded her softly.

"Yeah, but I can sure as hell hurt you," she retorted.

"Claire, please. If you would just come with me, to see him, maybe you could—"

"See him?!?" Claire exclaimed, at her voice echoed by her mother's. Sandra grabbed Peter's arm in an iron grip.

"Look, mister, you may think you're trying to do a good thing here but I can tell you, you will_ not_ be taking my daughter to see that…that…_man_."

Peter was trying to come up with an intelligent response, one that would convince Claire of just how important all of this was, when his phone rang. He would have shut it off, but he felt a sudden chill run down his spine, and he knew that he had to answer that call.

"Claire…Mrs. Bennet…I have to take this. But please, think about what I'm trying to say."

He took a few steps away, feeling their eyes burning into his back. He flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

There was a long pause.

"Peter?"

He was shocked when he heard Gabriel. It barely even sounded like him—he was almost whispering, and his voice was shaking violently.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm here, Gabriel," he said quietly, but he could still here Claire and Mrs. Bennet react to his name. "What's wrong?"

There was another pause, this one so long that Peter checked his phone to make sure he was still connected. Finally, Gabriel spoke.

"I…it's Elle, Peter. She's…she's sick."

The despair in Gabriel's voice scared Peter.

"She's…how sick, Gabriel?"

He heard a strange, strangled noise on the other end of the phone, and it took him a moment to realize that Gabriel was crying.

"Pete…she…she has pancreatic cancer."

Peter felt his heart stop.

"Oh my…Gabriel…"

"The doctor…he said…she only has a f-few weeks to live. She's going to d-die, Pete. She's going to die, and there's nothing I can…"

Peter closed his eyes, and in the pit of his stomach he could feel the gears beginning to turn. It was as though the fate of the entire world was hanging in the balance of what happened now. The darkness was closing in, and inexorably time was slipping forward, towards the hopeless future that he had seen. He could see it—he could see how close they were, how little of a chance he had left to prevent it from coming to be.

"Hang on, Gabriel," he said, clenching his fists in determination. "I'm coming."


	19. Dyin' Ain't Much of a Livin'

_A whiskey bottle comforts me, and tells me not to cry,_

_While a full moon says a prayer for me._

_I try to close my eyes._

_But the night's there to remind me of the guns and the early graves._

_The ghosts appear as I fall asleep,_

_To sing an outlaw's serenade._

_Dyin' ain't much of a livin',_

_When you're livin' on the run._

_Dyin' ain't much of a livin' for the young._

_Is it too late to ask for forgiveness,_

_For the things that I have done?_

_Dyin' ain't much of a livin' for the young._

_And I hope someone will pray for me, _

_When it's my turn to die…_

_Pray for me…_

_

* * *

_

Claire had never been so conflicted in her life. It was as though she had been split down the middle, and the two parts of her were warring with each other mercilessly. On the one hand, she wanted to see Sylar, to see him suffering, to see him in agony. But, if Peter was right…the Sylar that she had known was not the kind of person that would even have a wife, much less be sitting at her side in the hospital as she was fighting for her life. But if he _was_ here…did that mean he _had _changed? And if he had…could she still keep that same hatred in her heart? She didn't want him to have changed. She didn't want him to be the man that Peter said he had become…because if he had, if he was….she could hate Sylar, she could hate him with every fiber of her being, but she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to hate Gabriel. Still…she had to know.

It had taken quite a while to convince her mother to let her go with peter to the hospital. Even Peter had been stunned by Claire's change in attitude. She hadn't really been able to explain it…she had been struck, suddenly, with the image of Sylar with a family. It had been so odd, so contrary to everything she had ever believed about that man, that she felt compelled to go and see it with her own eyes. So, after an argument that had ended with her loudly reminding her mother that she was, in fact, invulnerable, Peter had agreed to take her with him.

As they walked through the hospital, Claire suddenly realized that her mouth was extremely dry. Peter must have sensed her nervousness, because he reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"You…you don't have to come in right away, you know," he said quietly. "It might actually be better if you let me talk to him for a little while first."

Claire wasn't sure what she would have said, if she had been able to talk. She just nodded. So, when Peter knocked on E. Gray's door, she hung back, out of sight, debating the intelligence of her choice to tag along.

She was surprised when, only a moment later, Peter stepped back out into the hallway.

"He's not there. He went for a walk. I'm going to try and find him. Claire—she wants to talk to you."

Claire started. "What? But…but I don't even know her!"

The tiniest smile flitted across Peter's face.

"Actually," he said softly. "You do."

It took Claire a moment, after stepping hesitantly into the hospital room, to recognize the woman laying there in the bed. But when she did, she felt her jaw drop.

"Hi, Claire," Elle said softly.

Claire could tell immediately that Elle was very, very sick. She was incredibly pale, and there was a slight yellowish tinge to her skin that only further set off the dark circles under her eyes. But there was more to it than just how she looked. There was an air of exhaustion about her, a strange sort of tiredness that sucked the energy out of the room.

"Come inside," Elle said, mustering up the energy to smile, if only just a little. "Come sit down. I haven't seen you in so long!"

Claire crossed the room, her steps awkward, as if she had suddenly forgotten how to walk.

"Um…hi," she managed to say, her voice just as hoarse as Elle's.

Elle smiled again and indicated a pitcher of water on a table near her bed with a weak hand.

"Help yourself," she said. Claire did, her hands shaking as she poured herself a glass of water. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly overcome with such a terrifying range of emotions that she was having trouble breathing. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and in her frustration, trying to stifle them, her eyes only burned that much more.

She turned her head to try and hide her distress, but Elle wasn't fooled.

"What's wrong, Claire?" she asked. Her voice was calm, quiet, and filled with motherly concern…and for some reason, it pushed Claire over the edge.

"What's wrong?!?" she cried in a voice that barely sounded like her at all. "Are you kidding? EVERYTHING is wrong!"

Her ears were buzzing, and there were so many angry thoughts and outbursts rattling around in her head, trying to pour out her mouth, that Claire suddenly found herself unable to speak. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to relieve the pressure building in her chest, but nothing she did had any effect.

Then, slowly, Elle reached out and took Claire's hand with her own pale, trembling one, and squeezed it gently.

"It's going to be all right, Claire," she said in a soft voice. "Just take a deep breath."

She did. And then the tears came pouring out. She cried and cried like she hadn't for ages, and Elle was there, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words in a soft, calming voice. After what seemed like forever, Claire sniffled and wiped her eyes.

"Feel better?" Elle asked, smiling in a very motherly way.

"Yeah, actually," Claire said, surprised.

Elle laughed, though the sound was rather weak.

Claire sighed and ran her hand through her hair, leaning back in her chair.

"Elle," she said slowly. "How…how did all of this…happen?"

The older woman closed her eyes.

"Now that, Claire, is a very long story."

Claire shrugged, sniffling again. "I don't have much other place to be."

Elle nodded.

"Okay. But, Claire…first, I think there are a few things you need to know…about Gabriel...and your father."

Claire frowned. "My father?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

Elle bit her lip, and a faraway look appeared in her eyes.

"Well, a few years back, your father and I were partners, and one of our assignments was to observe Gabriel, to try and figure out his powers…but things…didn't exactly go as planned…"

* * *

Claire was very quiet.

"What are you thinking?" Elle asked, when the silence had gone on for long enough.

She was quiet for a minute more.

"You were right," she said. "That was a long story."

Elle shook her head.

"Come on, Claire. Tell me what you're thinking."

Claire shrugged.

"I don't know what to think," she admitted. "I mean…you just told me that the monster I've been both afraid of and hated for years was actually _created_ by my father…and then you told me about how he's actually a wonderful person, and a husband, and a father…" She shook her head.

"I know how you must feel," Elle said, squeezing her hand again.

"Do you really think that?"

Elle laughed.

"Claire, Sylar killed my father."

Claire's eyes widened.

"I…I didn't know that."

"I know," Elle said. "But you have to understand that Sylar and Gabriel are different men. Sylar is a monster, a murderer, a creature that enjoys causing pain and suffering. I could never love something like that. But Gabriel…he's sweet, and shy, he's smart, he's funny…and I love him. He's everything I ever wished for but never thought that I'd have. And I…" Her voice broke and the color drained from her face. She covered her eyes with her hands.

"Elle?" Claire asked, leaning forward. "Are you okay? Should I get a doctor?"

"No," Elle replied shakily, shaking her head. Claire realized that Elle was crying. She felt the need to do something, but had no idea what she should do.

"Claire," Elle sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "I'm dying! I'm so scared!"

Claire's stomach flipped upside down.

"I…can't the doctors do anything?"

"No! They said…they said that the cancer is too far along, and that…even with treatment…" She shook her head. "Even if they thought there was a chance, Claire, we don't have any money!"

"Well…what about my blood? Or Sy—I mean, Gabriel's blood? It brought my Dad back to life—shouldn't it be able to heal you?"

"We already tried that!" Elle said, laughing mirthlessly. "Gabriel was sure that it would work. But it didn't do anything. I think…that because it's not an injury, it's not an illness, but it's…_my body_…it's something that's gone wrong with my body…I don't know. I just know that it didn't work."

Claire couldn't think of anything to say.

"I…it's not really about me," Elle said. "I mean…it is. Of course, I don't want to die, but…Claire…what I'm really afraid of is what'll happen, once I'm gone."

"What do you mean?"

She wiped some tears from her face.

"It's so hard for Gabriel, Claire. Every day is a struggle for him, trying to keep Sylar at bay. When we're together, he says that it's easier for him, because he has something to fight _for_…but what's going to happen to him, once I'm dead? What's going to happen to our son?"

Claire shook her head.

"I…I don't…"

Elle took Claire's hands in hers and clutched at them tightly.

"Claire. I know that it's horrible of me to ask you this…I know that it's a terrible burden to put on your shoulders, and that you probably wish you had never come here, that you never knew about all of this, but please, you have to help Gabriel once I'm gone. I know that Peter will be there for him, will try to help him…but I don't think it'll be enough. Peter's too innocent at heart…I don't know if he'll be able to see, if Gabriel starts to fade…but _you_, Claire…you've had enough experience with the monster in him. You'll be able to see it, if it starts to come out. I trust you, Claire…please, you have to promise me that you'll look after them, that you'll look after Gabriel and our son."

Claire's first instinct was to run, to go back home and forget any of this had ever happened. But Elle's hands were clasped tightly around hers, and the contact gave her a feeling of strength…and there was so much hope in Elle's eyes, pleading with her silently…Claire realized that she couldn't leave. And, even more than that, she didn't _want_ to leave.

"I promise," she said. And she squeezed Elle's hands for reassurance…not just for Elle, but for herself, too.


	20. Everybody's Broken

_Welcome to the party, come on in and disappear._

_You're feeling like a stranger, but all your friends are here._

_Little lies and cracks, around your eyes and mouth._

_Something's trying to get in, something's trying to get out…_

_It's okay to be a little broken; everybody's broken in this life._

_It's okay to feel a little broken. Everybody's broken, you're alright._

_It's just life._

_Step into the deep end, make yourself at home._

_When you wonder why you're breathing, know you're not alone._

_It's so hard to believe, it's easier to doubt._

_You're trying to hold in, but you're dying to scream out…_

_Take a look around, tell me what you see._

_Is who you think you are who you wanna be?_

_Keep on going, eyes wide open._

_Everybody's broken.

* * *

_

It took Peter longer than he expected to find his brother. He had thought that Gabriel would be somewhere close by Elle's room, just in case…but, after fifteen minutes of wandering up and down the tiled hallways proved fruitless, Peter gave up and asked a nurse for help. She immediately knew what he was talking about.

"Mr. Gray took little Noah down to daycare on the first floor—but I'm not sure where he went after that."

Peter asked for directions and then set off again, thanking the nurse for her help. He got on an elevator and found himself next to a young woman on crutches, a large cast on her leg. She smiled at him.

"Off duty or visiting?"

Peter frowned. "Pardon?"

"Well, you're obviously not sick or hurt, so that means you either work here and are off duty, or you're visiting someone. So which is it?"

"Uh-visiting."

"Really? That's funny. I would have guessed off duty. Most people are uncomfortable in hospitals, but you just seem like you belong here."

"Well…I'm a paramedic, back in New York."

She beamed. "That must be it. New York, huh? Long ways from here!"

Before Peter had a chance to reply, the elevator slid to a halt and the doors opened. "This is my stop," the young woman said cheerfully. "I hope whoever you're visiting gets better soon."

"Uh—you too," Peter called after her as she expertly navigated her way down the hall on her crutches. THen the doors slid shut, and Peter found himself alone, staring at his warped reflection in the dingy metal door. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that the man looking back at him was a complete stranger. His skin flushed, and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe. The air felt thick, like he was trying to pump molasses through his lungs. The tinny sound of the elevator music grated in his ears, and he had the distinct impression that the walls of the elevator were creeping in on him. He panicked, his throat seizing up, and his heart was beating so hard he felt like his chest would explode. After what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality couldn't have been longer than a minute, the doors opened. Peter lunged out into the hallway, shaking, and took several deep breaths of cool air. Ignoring the stares of people walking by, Peter leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Gradually his heartbeat returned to normal, and he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

_What the hell was that_? he asked himself. He had never been claustrophobic before. Not even a little bit. So…what had just happened?

He heard children laughing from somewhere close by and shook his head, trying to clear it. Whatever that had been, he didn't have time to worry about it now. He had to find Gabriel.

The daycare center was at full capacity. The two women in charge seemed like they were in over their heads, trying to keep the dozens of hyper, screaming children under control. Peter stood in the doorway, debating with himself over whether or not he wanted to bother the frazzled nurses. He saw Noah sitting in the back of the room, nudging a few brightly colored blocks half-heartedly, but Gabriel was nowhere in sight.

Then he noticed something that didn't belong, not here. He knew the smells of the hospital—industrial cleaner, latex gloves, and, in the ER, the metallic tang of human blood. But this…

Peter realized, suddenly, where Gabriel must have gone. With a quick glance at Noah to reassure himself that his nephew was all right, Peter followed the smell down the hall.

With the expertise that only long years of practice could bring, Peter dodged and wove through the milling crowd, trying to keep out of the way of the rushing doctors, nurses and paramedics. Glancing at a few signs to guide his steps, he eventually found himself standing in front of an automatic sliding glass door. He stepped through, and the faint smell of flowers that he had been following surrounded him in a rush.

Peter had never seen a hospital with a garden before, but it struck him as a brilliant idea. The aroma of the flowers was soothing, and the bright colors were cheerful and pleasant. But he didn't spend too long musing over the benefits of the garden. Instead, he walked over to a bench nestled in the midst of a cluster of rose bushes and sat down next to his brother.

"I've been looking for you, Gabriel," he said quietly.

Gabriel glanced at him.

"Peter, you look terrible. Are you okay?"

It was almost enough to make Peter laugh. Gabriel's face was completely ashen, except for his eyes, which were red and bloodshot, with heavy bags under them. His hair was matted and tangled, and he looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week.

"I'm fine," Peter lied, pushing his strange spell in the elevator to the back of his mind.

Gabriel looked away.

"I thought maybe you weren't coming."

"Don't be stupid," Peter chided gently. Gabriel's lips twitched up into what was almost a smile, but then his face fell and his eyes glazed over.

Peter sighed. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. It took a while to convince Sandra to let Claire come with me."

Gabriel sat up straight, his eyes widening in surprise. "Claire's…_here_?" he whispered, looking around the garden quickly.

"Not _here_ here. I left her with Elle. They…had a lot to talk about."

Gabriel nodded mutely. Then his face flushed red and tears spilled out of his eyes, swollen from crying too much already. He buried his face in his hands, a dry sob escaping his throat.

"God…Pete…I don't know what I'm going to do!"

Peter winced, his head spinning for a moment, and he squeezed his brother's shoulder in what he knew was a futile gesture of reassurance.

"Do the doctors…"

"They said 'there's nothing we can do.' Just like that. Nothing they can do!" Gabriel raged, his fists clenched so tightly that Peter saw blood leaking out between his white fingers. "They're just going to let her…" He shook his head savagely, unable to finish his sentence.

"But isn't there anything else…" Peter started to say, glancing around to make sure there was no one close by to overhear them. "I mean…didn't you tell me that you healed her once, with your blood?"

"Don't you think I would have tried that already?" Gabriel snapped. "It didn't work. I don't know why. Maybe because it's a mutation of her cells, and not an actual injury or a foreign agent…_I don't know_! There's nothing that I can do to…God, Peter, there's nothing I can do! I've never felt to…helpless!"

Peter tightened his grip on Gabriel's shaking shoulder. "I know how you feel," he murmured. "After feeling so powerful for so long…"

"All the stupid things I can do, but I can't even keep my wife from…" He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"How am I supposed to live without her?" he whispered hoarsely. "Pete…I don't know if I can…"

"Stop it," Peter said firmly, both to reassure Gabriel and to quell his own rising feeling of panic. "She's not…she could still…" He sighed. "No matter what happens, Gabriel, you have to remember that you're not going to be alone. You have me, you have Noah…"

Gabriel nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

"Is there…anything I can do to help out?"

"Just having you here…"

"I know, Gabriel. But I really mean it. What can I do to help?"

Gabriel looked as if he was about to say something, but then he shook his head.

"What?" Peter asked. "What were you going to say?"

"I can't," Gabriel said. "I…it's…never mind."

"_Gabriel_."

His shoulders slumped and he sighed, resigned. "It's just…Elle and I never got any health insurance…and we never really had much money in the bank to start with…"

"You need help with the hospital bills?"

Gabriel nodded. "I didn't want to ask…"

Peter shook his head.

"I'll take care of it. In the meantime, why don't we pick up Noah and go back to the room? Claire and Elle might be ready for some company by now."

* * *

Gabriel hesitated, his hand an inch from the doorknob.

Peter watched him for a moment and then gave him an encouraging push.

"Go on. I'll be in in a minute. I just have to make a quick phone call. Go inside."

Gabriel nodded, but still paused off for a few more long moments before closing his fingers around the cold metal handle. He took a deep breath, balancing a dozing Noah on his hip, and then he stepped through the door.

He hadn't seen Claire in a long, long time, but she didn't look all that different. A little older, yes, but she had the same blonde hair that was like Elle's, but also different; the same little girl features that still retained their youthfulness, no matter how many years passed; and the same bright eyes that flashed with an all-too-familiar hatred when she turned and saw him walking into the room.

Elle smiled wearily. "There you are. I wondered what was keeping you."

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning his eyes away from Claire's withering stare. "I just…needed a little air."

Noah stirred at the sound of his voice and looked around, blinking sleepy eyes. He squirmed in Gabriel's arms, uttering a slurred syllable that sounded vaguely reminiscent of "down." Gabriel lowered him to the floor, and Noah immediately scampered across the room to Claire and climbed up into her lap.

"Hi!" he exclaimed happily. "Who are you?"

"Noah!" Elle chided. "You shouldn't—"

"No, it's okay," Claire said, a smile crossing her face. "I'm Claire. It's nice to meet you…wait, Noah?"

She glanced over at Gabriel before leaning in towards Elle. "Noah? Like, my _dad_, Noah?"

"Um…" Elle said, smiling sheepishly at Gabriel. "Did I…forget to mention that?"

"Yeah, you kinda did," Claire grumbled.

Elle chuckled. "Sorry." Then she gave Gabriel a pointed stare. "Honey…do you have anything you'd like to say to Claire?"

The atmosphere in the room grew uncomfortably tense. Claire clenched her jaw and turned away.

"Uh…I don't think…" Gabriel started to say, but then Claire slid Noah out of her lap and stood up.

"Hallway," she snapped, walking past him and out the door. Gabriel crossed the room to squeeze Elle's hand and kiss her briefly. Then he followed Claire outside.

Before he could say a word, Claire held up her hand, her body radiating a barely suppressed fury.

"I don't care what you're going to say, I don't want to hear it," she whispered, aware of the nurse's station at the end of the hall. She wanted to hit him, to hit him again and again and again until he stopped moving—but there was another part of her that was confused. The man standing in front of her was not the Sylar she had known. This man was broken, exhausted…Claire felt a surge of pity for him, even as she tried to hold on to her rage. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Elle told me…a lot of things. About you."

She paused and Gabriel fidgeted, unsure if she was expecting some kind of a reply. Then she sighed.

"I don't know if I could ever really…forgive you…for all the things you…"

"Claire—"

"No, let me finish," she said, her voice shaking with anger. "I have to…" Her fists clenched and she turned away for a minute, her shoulders trembling. After she had composed herself, she turned back around. Gabriel was surprised to see tears on her face.

"I've hated you for years," she whispered, as tears streamed from her eyes. "There've been times when that hatred…kept me going. It's been there so long…I'm afraid to let go of it, because I don't know…I don't know what'll be there when it's gone. But…I think I understand, now, at least a little, why you are…why you _were_ the way that you…" She fumbled over her words and lapsed into silence for a moment. Gabriel waited patiently as she collected herself.

"Elle told me what my father did to you," she said quietly. "And because of that…because of what he did…and because of Elle, and your son…I'm giving you a second chance." The words came out in a rush, and as soon as she said them Claire felt a pressure in her chest melt away. Suddenly light headed, she sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and buried her face in her knees.

Gabriel crouched next to her and clenched his hand against the urge to reach out and touch her shoulder. He didn't think she was here yet.

"Thank you, Claire," he murmured, not sure if she was listening. He was surprised when she lifted her head and favored him with a teary smile.

"So…did you really name your son after my dad?"

He couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, we did," he said, sinking to the ground next to her and stretching out his long legs.

Claire shook her head.

"You're completely insane. You know that, right?"

He laughed.

"You've got me there."

* * *

Peter waited as the phone rang, drumming his fingers impatiently on the top of the payphone. He glanced at his watch. He knew she would have her phone on her…but would she answer? He gnawed at his lip, listening to the rings on the other end of the line, and his mind began to wander. He wondered briefly how Claire and Gabriel were getting along. But then his episode in the elevator sprang up into his mind. He remembered the feeling of panic that had overcome him and frowned. What could have possibly caused that? And the few times since then, that he had felt it creeping up on him again…what was wrong with him?

The phone on the other end stopped ringing, and Peter heard a familiar stern voice.

"Hello? Who is this?"

He sighed in relief. "It's me, Mom," he said quietly.

"Peter! What a pleasant surprise. I didn't recognize the phone number. Where are you?"

"I…it's kind of hard to explain," Peter said. "I'm at a hospital, so I couldn't use my cell phone."

"A hospital? Peter, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Listen, you may want to sit down."

There was a pause. "Peter, what is going on?" Angela Petrelli asked, her voice tight.

"Mom, I'm here with Claire, and Elle…and Gabriel."

He heard a rustle and a soft thud that he recognized as the sound of his mother sitting down heavily.

"You…I thought he was dead."

"So did I," Peter said. "Until he saved me from Arthur a few years back."

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"That was Sylar? Who killed Arthur?"

"_Gabriel_," Peter corrected her gently. "Mom, he's changed. He's got a family now." Peter felt a little like a broken record. He wondered for a moment how often he had repeated those words over the last few days. "That's…actually why I'm calling. See…Elle and Gabriel got married a few years back, and she…she's sick. She's here in the hospital, and they don't have money to pay the bills. And since Gabriel is my brother, that makes her my sister in law, and your daughter in law…so _I _thought…"

"He's not your brother, Peter."

Peter frowned.

"What?"

"That was a lie that I told him, Peter, to try and control him. I'm not proud of what I did, but I needed him to help me fight Arthur. He is _not_ family."

Peter closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the top of the payphone. He was silent for a long time.

Finally, Angela's voice filtered through the phone.

"Peter? Are you still there?"

He opened his eyes and clenched his fist around the receiver.

"You're paying the bills, Mom," he said firmly. "After everything you've put all of us through, you owe me that much."

He waited a long time for Angela to respond.

"All right, Peter," she said at last. "Send me the bill. I'll take care of it."

Peter thanked her brusquely and hung up the phone, his head spinning.

Gabriel…wasn't his brother?

It had all been a lie?

He walked back to Elle's room in a daze. He felt like the world had been pulled out from under his feet. Gabriel wasn't his brother. That changed everything, didn't it?

He stopped.

At the other end of the hall, Claire and Gabriel were sitting against the wall, laughing hysterically, tears streaming down both their cheeks. He felt his heart swell.

No, he realized. He was wrong. It didn't change anything—not a damn thing. He suddenly understood that it didn't matter to him whether his mother said Gabriel was his brother or not. He had spent the last few years of his life believing they were brothers with all his heart—and now, no matter what anyone else told him, Peter knew that it was true. Gabriel _was_ his brother. Maybe not in blood, but everywhere that mattered.

He smiled, and hurried down the hall towards his family, curious to find out just what was so damn funny.

* * *

Heartfelt apologies about the insane delay in this update. Tough couple of months, and I found Claire and Gabriel's exchange extremely hard to write. But I promise that this time I will be more efficient. I'm expecting the story to have about three more chapters, and that should be it. So sorry again, and look for more updates soon! 


	21. Nobody's Hero

_You're afraid and it feels like you're too tired to fight._

_Even your heart don't know if you're still alive._

_Man, you never felt so alone in this world tonight, and I, don't you know that I felt the same?_

_I've seen this storm, I've been through the rain. You've gotta know that I feel your pain._

_Don't be afraid._

_When you're on the edge, I will rescue you. When you need a friend, I'll be there for you…_

_I'm nobody's hero, but for you, I'd lay down my life._

_Nobody's hero, but I'd tear down the stars from the sky,_

_If you would lean on me, baby, dream on me. You can bleed on me, just believe in me…_

_Nobody's hero…_

_Well, out on these streets, they're waiting for blind eyes to see._

_They're waiting for our cuts to bleed. Out here they're waiting for you and me._

_Well alright, alright, 'cause this time you know I ain't afraid to fight._

_For you, I ain't afraid to die._

_As long as you are by my side it will be alright._

_When all faith is gone, I will pray for you…_

_Just keep holding on, I'll be there for you…_

_I'm nobody's hero.

* * *

_

A nurse poked her head into Elle's room.

"Sorry everybody, but visiting hours are over. You're going to have to come back tomorrow."

Elle smiled sadly.

"Stupid visiting hours," she muttered.

"I know, I know," the nurse said with a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. But rules are rules."

Claire yawned, trying not to disturb Noah, who was fast asleep in her lap.

"Wow, I had no idea it had gotten so late."

"Do you want me to take you home?" Peter asked.

She hesitated.

"Actually…" She glanced over at Elle and smiled sheepishly.

"You and Peter can both stay at our place if you'd like," Elle said with a smile.

Claire looked relieved. "I…thanks," she said, her face flushing. She glanced down at Noah. "I don't want to wake him up…"

Gabriel chuckled. "Don't worry about that. At his age, there isn't much you could do to wake him up. I've even brushed his teeth while he was sleeping before."

Claire wasn't inclined to believe him at first, but when she stood up with Noah still fast asleep in her lap and carried him to the door without him even batting an eyelid, she laughed and shook her head. "That's amazing," she said as she left the room.

Peter leaned over the hospital bed to kiss Elle on the forehead. Then he squeezed her hand warmly, nodded to Gabriel, and followed Claire out into the hallway.

"Gabriel," Elle said softly. "Before you go…I need to talk to you about something."

Peter walked alongside Claire slowly, a strange, sad smile on his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Claire asked, readjusting Noah in her arms so that he was positioned on her hip.

"Hm? Oh…nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me, you. I know when you're thinking hard about something. So tell me."

He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "Well…okay. I have to admit, when it first occurred to me that Elle might…I was scared. I was so scared of what might happen to Gabriel. And I was so mad at myself, because…because I know him, now, I know that he's a good person, he's _trying_ to be a good person, but if Elle was to…I was afraid of what might happen. But then, I saw the two of you together, and I realized that it's going to be okay. No matter what happens, I realized that Gabriel's going to be all right, because…because he'll still have us."

Claire smiled and, unable to reach out and take his hand because of the child sleeping in her arms, leaned over and bumped her shoulder into him.

"You're right. But maybe it won't come to that—you never know. I mean, the doctors didn't seem very optimistic, but…Elle could still pull through. It's possible…isn't it?"

Peter put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

But he didn't say anything.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Gabriel asked, lowering himself into a chair at Elle's bedside. "It better be important—you're going to get me in trouble with the nurses."

Elle smiled halfheartedly. "Gabriel…I need to ask you to do something for me. But you're not going to like it."

Gabriel frowned. "What is it?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Elle looked away for a moment.

"Can you promise me something?"

"That depends."

"I need you to just listen to me for a minute, and not interrupt—I need you to just keep quiet and listen to what I have to say. Can you promise me that?"

Gabriel was silent for a minute, his eyes narrowed, as if he was sure Elle was trying to trick him somehow. But then he nodded. "Okay. I promise."

Elle smiled.

"Thank you. I…you're not going to want to hear this, but I have to say it. I'm dying, Gabriel. I can feel it. I can feel my body starting to change, to…shut down. And I know what you're going to say, you're going to say that I'm strong, that I can beat this, forget what the doctors say about my chances. But this isn't me being afraid or pessimistic. This is me realizing…there's absolutely nothing that can stop it. I'm going to die. And unless I do something about it, it's going to be long, painful, and horrible. But there _is_ something I can do. It's awful, and cruel, and horribly selfish, but…just this once, I'm going to be selfish, and ask you to do this for me, even though I know that it'll tear your heart out to do so…because Gabriel, I don't want to die, but more than that, I don't want to _suffer_."

Gabriel's face grew increasingly white as she spoke, and it was only because he had promised that he was able to keep quiet. When Elle was finished speaking, there was a short pause, and then Gabriel spoke.

"What are you asking me to do?"

Elle looked at him sadly.

"I need you to kill me."

Gabriel stood up suddenly, his quick movement knocking his chair to the floor with a loud, echoing clatter. "How can you ask me to do that?" he cried, his voice cracking. "Elle! You know—you _know_ what I've done, what that's done to me! How can you even _suggest—_"

"Gabriel, don't…"

"Are you completely insane?"

"Gabriel, please, just stop."

She was crying. The sight of tears on her face defused every emotion that was running through Gabriel's body and he fell to his knees at her bedside.

"Baby, I know this is so hard for you to hear, and I would never ask you to do something like this, but I can't…I can't do this, Gabriel. I can't go through all of that. And I can't put all of you through that—do you really want little Noah to watch me fall apart that way? What do you think that will do to him? Gabriel, what would that do to you? I don't think you could survive it."

Gabriel shook his head. "And you think…me, killing you…do you really think that I could survive _that_?"

Elle smiled through her tears and touched the side of his face gently.

"I know you will. I know you will, because I'm going to make you promise. I know how hard it's been for you to come to terms with the things that you've done, but I've watched you do it, I've watched you overcome it and persevere, and that's how I know that you'll make it through this too. You're strong, Gabriel."

"Not that strong," he protested, shaking his head violently as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Oh yes you are, baby. You're a hero. You can do anything."

He sobbed and buried his face in the bed. She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, rocking back and forth slowly.

"I'm so sorry, Gabriel, I wish I didn't have to put you through this…and if you really don't think you can, if you _really_ don't, then…then I won't make you, but…Gabriel, please. Please, do this for me."

He let her hold him for a few minute longer while he wept. Then, his shoulders still shaking, he looked up at her, his eyes burning.

"All right. I'll do it."

* * *

Peter and Claire listened soberly as Elle explained everything to them, while Gabriel stood at the window, staring out at nothing. Jim and Doris had said their goodbyes, but had left the family alone out of respect and gone home to comfort each other in private. Noah bounced happily in his mother's lap, oblivious to the grave atmosphere that had fallen over the room.

Peter shook his head. "Elle…are you sure? I mean…_really_ sure?"

She smiled. "Yes, Peter. I'm sorry, I know this seems crazy, but…I'm sure."

Claire sniffed, unable to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks. "But Elle, you can't…we only just…"

She reached out and squeezed Claire's hand warmly. "I wish we could have had more time together as friends, Claire, and I really am sorry about that…but I'm so glad to know that you're willing to be a part of this family now. My boys are going to need a strong woman to keep them in line."

Claire laughed bitterly and leaned over to hug Elle desperately, her shoulders shaking as she wept. Elle kissed her forehead and stroked her blonde hair soothingly, murmuring words of comfort in her ear. Claire clung to her for a minute before tearing away and sitting back in her chair, turning her face away as she continued to cry bitterly.

Peter was trying to be strong, but failing miserably. He smiled at Elle, his eyes red.

"I don't even know what to say," he murmured. "Elle…"

She held out her arms to him. "I know," she said. "Pete, I know."

They embraced. Noah, not completely unobservant, grew still as the eyes around him all filled with tears. When Peter sat back, he tugged impatiently at his mother's arm.

"Why cry?" he asked curiously.

The simple question spurred a fresh set of tears from the family. Elle pulled Noah into her arms and hugged him so tight that he squirmed to escape.

"Noah, baby, mommy has to go away."

"Trip?"

"No…no, she has to go for good. She can't come back, not from where she's going."

He looked up at her soberly for a moment and then hugged her again.

"Don't go."

Claire stifled a sob and Peter cleared his throat. Elle kissed Noah gently.

"I have to, baby. But I want you to make mommy a promise, okay? I need you to promise mommy that you're going to be good, and that you're going to take care of daddy."

Noah snuggled up against her and nodded. "Promise."

Claire took Noah in her lap and held on to him tightly as Gabriel came to kneel at Elle's side. They exchanged no words—everything there was to be said had been said already. He just kissed her, gently, tenderly, and she smiled. It was a smile of acceptance and happiness, peaceful and serene. Then Gabriel laid his hand over her heart.

It only took a small jolt of electricity to stop her heart from beating.

Elle's eyes closed.

She was gone.


	22. The Next 100 Years

_Time ain't nothing but time; It's a verse with no rhyme._

_Man, it all comes down to you._

_And change ain't nothing but change, just the faces and names._

_But you know we're gonna make it through._

_I'll believe, when you don't believe in anything._

_I'm gonna hold you 'til your hurt is gone,_

_Be the shoulder that you're leaning on._

_I'll be standing here for the next 100 years._

_If it all should end tonight, I'll know it was worth the fight,_

_And we'll be standing here for the next 100 years._

_I, when I think that I'm losing my mind, it all comes back to you._

_And you, yeah you know that it's true,_

_After all we've been through, there's nothing that I wouldn't do._

_Stand by me, and I would gladly give up everything._

_I'm gonna hold you 'til your hurt is gone,_

_Be the shoulder that you're leaning on._

_I'll be standing here for the next 100 years._

_If it all should end tonight, I'll know it was worth the fight._

_And we'll be standing here…_

_For the next 100 years._

* * *

The funeral was larger than Claire expected, given the size of the town Elle and Gabriel had been hiding in for the past few years. On a close examination she realized that most, if not all, of the town's inhabitants had turned up. It seemed like a fitting tribute, somehow, that in just a few years Elle had managed to touch the lives of so many people. She had bought a simple black dress at a second hand store near the diner where Elle had worked, not having brought anything appropriate for a funeral. But even though she was just one more person in a sea of black, she felt as if she stood out somehow; everyone else there knew one another, and had for years. She was the only stranger. But she didn't have time to worry about that, because she was too busy trying to comfort a bereft Noah, who was just now beginning to understand what had really happened. The service was short and bittersweet. When it was over, Gabriel wandered away into the cemetery, avoiding the eyes of throngs of sympathetic well-wishers whose words couldn't even begin to soothe his aching heart. She saw Peter follow him, and, spurred by a sudden intense purpose, hurried after them with Noah still bundled in her arms.

They were standing under a flowering tree, looking out at the sprawling grassy hills filled with elaborately carved gray slabs and piles of flowers left by loving mourners, two brothers side by side in silent sadness. Noah squirmed restlessly and Claire set him down. He toddled over to his father and tugged on his pant legs demandingly. Gabriel stooped down and picked his son up, clinging to him with a haunted look in his eyes.

"Gabriel," Claire said. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was listening.

"I think you and Noah should come back home with me."

He looked at her then.

"You can't stay with Peter—sorry, Peter, but your apartment is really, _really_ small—there's no way three people could live there comfortably. My house has plenty of extra room."

Gabriel shook his head. "I can't do that, Claire."

"Why not?" she demanded, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Because…"

"Because of my father?"

He shrugged. "Well…yeah."

Claire sighed in exasperation. "Look, not too long ago I would have gladly killed you on sight. Now, things are different. If I can change, then so can he."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "She seems kind of determined," he commented.

Gabriel shook his head. "I really don't think this is a good idea, Claire."

"Too bad," Claire said resolutely. "You can't stay here, Gabriel. You need a fresh start. And you need someone to help you take care of Noah. So you're coming home with me."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Peter said crossly.

"Oh, would you be quiet already?" Claire snapped, her hand on the knob of her front door. "I get it, you don't think it's a good idea, but for crying out loud, we're _here_!"

Peter sighed. "Just saying…"

As soon as Gabriel had agreed, rather reluctantly, to Claire's plan, things had moved quickly. They had gone home with Jim and Doris and changed into more comfortable clothes, and then Gabriel had gathered together the meager amount of possessions that he and Elle had acquired over the past few years. And, after a tearful goodbye with Jim and Doris and a promise to keep in touch, they had left.

* * *

Claire paused before opening the door.

"You know…on second thought, Pete, maybe you and Noah should…stay outside for a few minutes."

Peter smiled nervously. "um…yeah, that's probably a good idea."

He watched, his stomach churning, as Gabriel and Claire entered the house. Noah whimpered softly, snuggling closer to him.

"I know, little guy," Peter said softly "I'm worried too."

There was silence in the house. Then, after what seemed like a very long time, Peter heard a loud crash and raised, muffled voices. He tightened his arms around Noah, straining to make out the words being shouted on the other side of the door.

"You know, Noah," he said. "I'm not so sure this was a good idea. It was hard enough to convince your Aunt Claire…"

He heard another crash, and the voices got louder. Noah squealed and clapped his tiny hands over his ears.

"It's okay, Noah," Peter soothed, even though he didn't believe it himself. "It's okay…"

Then suddenly the image of a gun, black and deadly, flashed before his eyes. His stomach flipped and the earth spun around him as the vision hit him, vanishing in an instant and leaving him gasping for air.

"What…" he managed to say. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot on the other side of the door.

Before he could process what he had just seen and heard, Noah, screaming hysterically, wriggled out of Peter's arms, fell to the ground, and stumbled to the front door, throwing it open.

"Wait!" Peter exclaimed, trying to regain his balance. "Noah, stop! No!"

* * *

"DAD! What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"I told you, I don't want that monster in my house!"

"You _shot_ him!"

Noah Benett pointed his gun at the prone figure lying on the floor, bleeding from a bullet wound in the middle of the forehead.

"And I'll do it again," he hissed, cocking the weapon.

Then, before Noah could pull the trigger or Claire or Sandra, standing slack-jawed, could make a move to stop him, the front door burst open in an explosion of sudden force.

Claire, Sandra and Noah stared in shock as a weeping toddler ran unsteadily to his father's side, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and began to shake him desperately.

"Daddy!" he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Daddy!"

"What?" Noah managed to say.

"Get away from there," Peter Petrelli exclaimed, dashing in from nowhere to try and snatch the child away.

"Petrelli?" Noah Benett demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?" The gun in his hand was still leveled at Gabriel's motionless body.

"Dad, for God's sake!" Claire yelled, stepping forward to snatch the gun from his hands. "Peter, I thought you were going to stay outside?"

"I was, but—" Peter gave up trying to wrestle the child away from Gabriel's side.

"What the hell is going on?" Noah Bennet hollered.

"Oh, shut up, would you?" Claire snapped. She removed the ammo from the gun and knelt by Noah and Gabriel's sides, laying her hands gently on Noah's small shoulders. "Noah?"

"What?" her father asked.

"No, not you," Claire said drily, rolling her eyes. "Noah, sweetie…"

"Is Daddy sleeping?" Noah asked blearily, his voice thick with tears.

"Yeah, Noah, he's only sleeping," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "He's only sleeping. He'll wake up soon." She held him tight, waiting impatiently as the seconds seemed to drag on for an eternity. It should've happened by now, she thought, fear eating at the edges of her stomach. He should've healed by now!

It felt like a lifetime passed before the bloody hole in Gabriel's forehead began to shrink. His eyes blinked and he took a ragged breath. He looked at them for a moment, confused and uncomprehending. Then recognition flashed in his eyes and he sat up sharply, letting out a cry of dismay.

Noah wrenched himself from Claire's arms and threw himself at his father, sobbing.

"Hey," Gabriel said softly, his voice hoarse. "Hey, Noah, it's okay. Don't cry, it's okay."

Noah Benett cleared his throat loudly. His face was red, his jaw clenched, and his hands were balled up into tight fists at his sides.

"Will someone," he said softly, his voice laced with rage, "tell me what the hell is going on?"

* * *

Gabriel looked down at the milky surface of the tea in the mug cradled in his hands, the steam curling up and warming his face. He glanced out the window and then back down at the tea.

"Relax, Gabriel," Peter said, for the thousandth time. "It looks like it's going well."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel asked, looking back out the window. It was true, Noah Benett no longer looked as violently angry as he had at first. He was speaking to Claire, exasperation etched on his face, but through the window they couldn't hear anything the two were saying.

"Peter's right," Sandra said, reaching out to lay her hand on Gabriel's arm. "He's coming around."

Gabriel smiled at her uneasily. It had thrown him off, how readily Sandra had accepted him and little Noah. He hadn't realized that Sandra had known all along where Claire disappeared to so often, that Claire had told her mother everything. While Claire and her father had gone outside to talk, Sandra had taken the two brothers into the kitchen, where she made them each a large mug of tea. Little Noah was fast asleep on the couch, clinging to a stuffed elephant that Sandra had brought down from Claire's room. "Poor dear," she had cooed softly. "First he loses his mother, then this…"

"You shouldn't have let him inside," Gabriel said crossly. Peter rolled his eyes.

"It's not like I did it on purpose!"

"He's a toddler, Pete. How hard is it to hold onto him, really?"

Peter scowled. "It was…it was weird, Gabriel. It was like he knew what was going on, that you were in trouble, and then…I saw the gun, like it was right there in front of me, and then…" He shrugged. "Then he ran in."

Gabriel mulled it over, staring at his reflection in the tea. "Do you think it was Noah?"

"Huh?" Peter asked. Gabriel smirked.

"My Noah, I mean," he said. "That…might get a little confusing."

"Someday you'll have to explain to me why you named your son after my husband," Sandra said with a friendly wink. Gabriel smiled.

"Gabriel, are you thinking that little Noah did that?" Peter asked slowly. "That he saw the gun, that he had a vision?" Gabriel looked at him and Peter's eyes widened. He whistled. "That's…wow. I guess it's not that surprising for him to have powers, given his parents, but…he's just so young!"

Sandra laughed. "Children surprise you. That's part of their job." She looked out the window and smiled. "Looks like my husband's finally giving up the fight," she said, nodding towards them. Gabriel and Peter looked out to see Noah throwing up his hands in defeat. Sandra opened a cupboard and reached up for an extra mug. "I should make some tea for him," she said.

Gabriel smiled. "You might want to make something a little stronger, Sandra. He's probably going to need it."

* * *

Epilogue

Gabriel woke with a start, gasping. Then, looking up into the darkness, he began to laugh.

The Benett house was still unfamiliar, but he didn't turn on any lights as he slowly made his way down to the kitchen. He didn't want to wake anyone. A clock chimed in the hall. A floorboard creaked under his foot and he winced, pausing, but the house was still silent.

He poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, and the sound of the faucet masked Noah Benett's footsteps as he approached.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. Gabriel jumped.

"Sorry," he said, setting the glass down on the counter. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Noah shook his head. "I couldn't sleep either." He looked strange, the shape of his face unfamiliar without his horn-rimmed glasses. "So what's got you up at this hour of the morning?"

Gabriel was silent a moment. Then he spoke.

"A dream."

Noah raised his eyebrows. "A premonition?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. It was…" He laughed. "Maybe it was just a dream, I don't know, but…it was Elle. She came to talk to me."

Noah was quiet for a moment.

"What did she say?"

"Lots of things," Gabriel said with a smile. "She…she said she loved me, and that she would be watching over me, to help me with everything I would have to go through." Noah peered at him inquisitively. Gabriel smirked. "Apparently my little boy has quite a few more powers he's yet to develop. Do you have any idea what it's going to be like, trying to raise a teenager who can fly?"

Noah laughed. "Flying, no, but I can tell you one who can heal herself is quite a handful."

They chuckled.

"So you think it was real," Noah asked. "That it wasn't just a dream, that what she said was true?"

Gabriel sighed, picking up the glass of water and taking a thoughtful sip.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But…I think it was." He sniffed, a tear coming unbidden to his eye. When he had woken, he could have sworn she had been in the room with him; he could smell her, feel her presence.

Noah reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "You miss her," he observed softly.

"Yeah," Gabriel admitted hoarsely. "But it's getting easier, every day."

Noah smiled. "Well, all I can say is, if she _can_ see you right now…I'm sure she's proud."

She was.

The End.


End file.
